


The Devil's Advocate

by Kensalyn



Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, What If story, double trouble, here come dat boi, hold onto your butts here we go, wow I really wrote a branch off au of my fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kensalyn/pseuds/Kensalyn
Summary: Living on the seventh floor is wonderful, but there are a lot of unanswered questions in Mira and Demiurge's search for happily ever after.  How did he end up in her world?  What happened to the one they left behind?  Can they learn anything from her old broken dive gear?Or will looking for answers only serve to double their problems?If they're going to endure the storm they've been pulled into, a lot is going to have to change...  Including them.
Relationships: Demiurge (Overlord - Maruyama Kugane)/Original Female Character(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 81
Kudos: 55





	1. What Ifs & Why Nots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!
> 
> This is a branch off of my main fic, Real Life on the Seventh Floor! Over the course of writing it, I've been asked a few different times things like, what happened to Nazarick? Is Demi a copy, or the original? What if Mira and Demi somehow found themselves in the new world with Momonga and the rest of the tomb? What would happen??
> 
> I've got answers to all of those! I've been loose-lipped about some stuff in the comments, but other things I hold pretty close to the chest, sometimes because I feel like it distracts from my plot, and sometimes because it'd be more fun to address it in an alternate ending! (Yyyyup, I'm in so deep I've got more than one of those I plan to write. Oops!!) But there's some stuff that none of the alternate endings that I have planned will cover. Stuff about Nazarick and it's denizens, specifically.
> 
> So, here we are!! There's some crazy stuff I'm planning to do in here, and I'm excited to see how it all works out! I'm also using this to stretch out those old 'third-person perspective' muscles; fair warning, Mira is suddenly not 'you' anymore! It's freaky and fun to be writing her as her very own separate perspective, and I hope you guys get a kick out of the change too!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented and helped inspire me to do this. Please know that I really treasure each interaction I get with you, even if I am a little awkward sometimes! Every single one, whether it be a kudo, a comment, a hit on my story, or a like on my blog, is a bright spot in my day, in my week!! You guys are the best, and I'm so happy to be able to share my ideas with such a positive and supportive community.
> 
> ...This is getting pretty long, isn't it? Ok, end of rambling!! On to the story!!!
> 
> How much trouble do you think these two can get themselves into this time??

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵'𝓼 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒

sʇoN ʎɥM ⅋ sɟI ʇɐɥM

* * *

It all started with a second glance.

The oval ring sat in the box beside her bed, untouched from when it had been moved with the rest of her belongings and partially hidden under a cardboard flap. She’d put it so far from her mind, she’d almost forgotten just how compact the incredible piece of tech was. It’s body was white, inner portion coated with a soft silicone texture while the outer bore smooth plastic, silver bumps of framework off the hard surface intermingling with adjustable segmented wires from which blue dots of clear resin hung, coating the outside edges of silver sensors.

This bit of technology had somehow bridged the insurmountable gap between him and her: The fantastical and the mundane, the imaginary and the physical, the game of Yggdrasil and reality itself.

It should never have been possible. And yet, here they were, existing together.

Mira had raised the dive gear gingerly after looking back on it again, using her fingers to clean any remaining tarnish from the underside of the sensors before gritting her teeth and taking it into the living room to present to Demiurge. He had been a bit quieter than usual today, and she had an idea as to why. It had been on both their minds. And now, can of worms opened, they were deep in discussion.

“I don’t know… what if we accidentally delete whatever data’s left? I’m not great with tech… Maybe we should take it up to Pan? He probably knows how to do this kind of stuff.”

Demiurge accepted the headset and turned it over in his hands, observing the little contact points that were charred and distorted. His eyes searched it for something he knew he wouldn’t find in a simple observation; a reason as to how he came to be here, how this item had allowed them to connect to each other’s lives at all. This little circle had somehow become a portal through which he had been drawn away from the brink of nonexistence with the rest of that old world. It was, aside from the woman of his affections herself, the only true link he had to such personal mysteries. “I’d rather keep him as a secondary option. The man is too clever for his own good, and I’d rather not have to attempt to control his curiosity as to our interest in a piece of gaming gear.”

She winced. “Yeah… that _is_ a good point. He’d ask all the right questions, wouldn’t he?”

“Indeed.” Demiurge smoothed his fingers along the sleek frame until he came to a divot; a port. Handing it back, he stood and walked to a box, popping it open and digging through. “How did you incorporate your copying software? Via the web, or a direct download?”

“You can plug directly into it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mira said cautiously. She kept darting her eyes between him and the gear; she had indeed taken scans of the guild she and her friends had built over so many years of work. She’d even made digital copies of some NPCs. But it somehow felt unlikely, after the massive errors and malfunction that occurred when the game ended, that any of that would even still be there. Demiurge plucked out a cord from the box and grabbed his laptop from the coffee table, sitting back on the couch with her. “I’m still not sure this is a great idea, Demi.”

He took her hand in his. “If you are insistent, I won’t attempt it. But please consider my reasoning. This holds the potential to answer questions that otherwise may never have an answer. And to see it with our own eyes rather than translated through a third party is our greatest likelihood of keeping hidden the things this world is not yet prepared for.”

“I dunno, I personally have been pretty pleased with you existing here. The world’s probably not that far behind.”

Demiurge chuckled, laying a kiss on her forehead. “They may attempt to acquisition the knowledge for themselves, and if that in any way could mean harm or threat to you… it is my wrath at that affront that they are not prepared for.”

Mira hunched and huffed a laugh. “I know… and, I’d be more worried for you. And I’d never let anyone take you from me.”

“So, to avoid the entire circumstance, we can attempt this recovery ourselves. Our choices are three: Continue to ignore the direct conduit of our circumstance. Allow a third party to investigate on our behalf. Or, to risk our own study of the crippled link to the realm of my first birth and your second.”

In one hand, Demiurge held the end of the cord, which he had connected to his computer, wifi disabled. The other was held out. “I leave this debate to you.”

She bit her lip. Looked at the fried piece of equipment. Then looked at the marvelous man before her.

“... Ok,” she agreed, placing it in his hand. “You’re right. It makes the most sense.”

He felt for the port, and hooked up the cord. “I must admit; I share your hesitations. But, this is our wisest course of action with the factors considered. Thank you for allowing me this experiment.”

Leaning in to see the screen, Mira wrinkled her nose. “Well, I share your want to know what’s on here, too. I’m a little nervous, but… this could be life-changing. Now that we’re this far? I gotta know.”

Demiurge beamed, wrapping an arm around her as the other hovered over the laptop. With a ding, it announced that it recognized a new driver to be installed. “I fear occasionally that I have indoctrinated you in the conniving path of mischief.”

“I was a trickster long before you were made, Demiurge the Arch-Devil,” she returned, eyes glued to the screen. “Now come on, if we’re gonna do this let’s do it!”

A laugh rattled his throat, and he nuzzled her head as his mouse navigated the prompts. “As you wish, My Lady Zoba.”

She rolled her eyes and reached out to cradle the arm around her, the one still holding the gear. Cuddling to it, she watched as he sorted through prompts and solved various roadblocks. It was impressive; while Mira knew enough to navigate more technical issues than the average person, she was by no means an expert. Demiurge had put a bit of work into understanding how the building blocks of this world operated, and a portion of that had been placed into the field of technical issues. He had now and then at the office proven that it was a rare need to call for IT when he was nearby. But, there was still that occasional need.

“...Hmm.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Mira gripped her devil’s arm a little tighter.

“An error. It appears there was some sort of interference with this particular function that is proving troublesome to resolve. The interface from this method won’t allow for further utilization.”

Mira looked at the headset. She looked to Demiurge. He looked back.

“No,” he said.

She slowly tucked a leg under her, squirming as she stalled. Then she pulled her eyes back to him. “If you insist, I won’t do it, but first consider my reasoning. This holds the potential to answer questions that we may otherwise never find an answer for. Or… however you said it.”

He grumbled.

She softly lifted his fingers from around the gear. “I won’t do anything without talking it through with you first. The menu mode doesn’t require a full dive, so we should be just fine! We’ve come this far.” She held it in her hands, between them both. “I don’t wanna back out now.”

He sighed. “You have a terrible advantage over me. It seems I cannot tell you no.”

“You literally just did.”

“Allow me to correct myself, then; I cannot tell you no for long.”

With a giggle, Mira raised the gear and laid it as though it were a crown, sensors like jewels dripping down to adorn her face and sift between her hair. Eyes closed, she was silent for a moment.

“Ok. It’s a little fuzzy, but other than being disconnected from anything but your laptop, it’s working pretty well.” She sounded a bit surprised. “I can see the windows you’ve pulled up… is it error code 034x070 that’s giving you issues? It _is_ the only one blinking.”

Demiurge squeezed her hand, draping his tail around her back. “Yes, that’s correct. Can you see a way to bypass it?”

“Well, I could try the usual way. Just send it into troubleshooting. I can swipe it right over.”

“Excellent. Please proceed.”

Mira nodded, and Demiurge watched as on the screen the error window froze, then began to buffer. She opened her eyes. “Well, that should just take a couple minutes, probably. And then… then we’ll see what I’ve got saved on here.”

They stared at the screen. The little circle turned round and round. Mira settled a hand on Demiurge’s tail, tracing a finger at the drop between segments.

“...Remember that one time, when I accidentally activated Guren? And Ulbert had to come show me how to turn off their aggro?”

“They mistook the rocks on the riverbank for golems since you were practicing so fervently on the debris with your knives. Or perhaps they merely wanted to play; it was always a bit difficult to tell between the two motives with their disposition.”

“Is that what happened?” She snickered. “I got teased pretty good about it, but even I thought it was funny! Actually, seeing it from the other perspective kinda makes the whole thing even funnier. Either way, if they were trying to help or to play… they must have been pretty sweet, huh?…”

Mira’s voice faltered off. Demiurge lifted his tail to bring in her hand.

“Do you recall when a select few of us were gathered to the throne room, for a ceremony of a sort? I believe it was Sebas, Cocytus, and myself, along with a few other male subordinates from various locations. To honor a milestone achieved by Lady Bukubukuchaguma.”

Mira jolted at the memory. “Oh--Oh my gosh, yes!! Oh I almost completely forgot about that!” The laugh crowded her eyes. “Oh man… She’d finally told off this stalker of hers that Peroronchino hated, and he was making a big presentation out of the fact that she was single and free! He invited us other girls, but it was really just to celebrate finally getting that guy to back off. I remember he convinced Momonga to help him set up the party as a surprise; they both sounded exhausted when they threw open the doors!” She took on a deep, weary-thin tone. “Welcome, single ladies! Congrats, Buku!”

A grin pulled at the corner of Demi’s lip, but he hummed a dull response. “You’ll understand if I don’t laugh at a mockery of the esteemed leader of Ainz Ooal Gown, won’t you?”

“Oh, is that where the line is?” she teased back. “You won’t poke fun at my guild leader with me?”

“How cruel; what a predicament you would corner me into! Is it truly such a betrayal, should I refuse?”

She rolled her eyes, taking in a breath to respond, but halted as a chime sounded in her mind. Her eyes shut for only a moment, then burst back open. “It’s ready,” she said, looking anxiously from Demi to the screen.

The window vanished, and in its place another appeared. Uninteresting at first glance, it contained several dozen items, documents, and images, and folders, ranging widely in their size. But the file names were what deigned a second glance. Some were random combinations of letters and numbers, while others were clearly dated with an added shorthand designation. A select few, however, were labeled clearly.

“yggdrasil_temporary_files” sat near the bottom of the list, just below the file containing what must have been the game itself. Demiurge glanced at the date of its last use. July 7th. The day of his arrival. Mira held her breath as he opened it.

More folders sprung up before them, along with various strangely formatted image files. Scanning the names quickly, he determined where the data from the last played session might be held, and went to click—

A finger obstructed his screen. “Ohmigosh—Demi look! It was saved!! The scene of the burning temple on the seventh floor, the capture I did the day before I tried to scan you!”

She was right. There it was, a recreation of the place he had called home. Where he had come to be. It felt like… a strange sort of vertigo to see it from a perspective such as this.

“Y'know, the reason I recorded these? Was so I could still feel like I was there. It was like a second home. I couldn’t let myself just lose it all. So many memories.” She pulled the finger back, the small icon revealed designating the unusual file. “But the temple I was pretty meticulous about. I scanned from like six different points before I was satisfied! I never did get around to testing if that actually made a difference.”

The question hung unasked. Demiurge sighed.

“My earlier statement is proving quite true; as hesitant as I am to simply allow you to do such a thing, I can’t deny my own desire to see how your experiment fared. I would impose a condition first, however,” he added, holding up a hand to curb her enthusiasm. “Rather than the risk be yours, allow me as the test subject for this step of the tech’s usage.”

Mira froze at that, then pouted. “Ok, I get it, you’re right, it’s dangerous.”

“I am quite serious. While I’m pleased you see my concern, this isn’t an attempt to outline a moral; I truly wish to test this avenue.”

A sound of worry echoed in Mira’s throat. Biting her lip, brow furrowed, she reached up and took off the gear, looking it over. She rubbed the backside of a sensor point, the char long wiped away, and slowly held it out. “This shouldn’t go full dive just by viewing these files. You should still be able to hear me and everything, so if you don’t respond when I ask you something, I’ll pull you out. You’ll only see the location, though, opening your eyes won’t change what you see until we close the program.”

A claw lifted the haloed headgear from her hands. “I anticipated a bit more resistance,” he admitted, holding it centered before him while the other hand removed his glasses; the equipment was made to settle over his ears, and the silver frames would needlessly encumber that position. He placed them in his breast pocket.

“I guess I can’t say no to you for long either,” Mira shrugged, shoulders pulled in close and hands not completely back in her lap. “It can be a little disorienting at first, so, just remember that this is all in your head. Keep your actions minimal to start, that’ll help you adjust to how it all feels.”

He nodded, fixing the gear over his brow as though it were made of gold and nitroglycerine. “I will certainly be cautious.” Reaching out one hand to grasp hers as the other hovered over the laptop, he smiled. “Thank you for allowing me to venture a test before your own attempt.” 

“Well,” she shrugged, “I mean, the seventh floor is-- It was your domain. It was _yours_.”

“The whole of Nazarick belonged to you and the other Supreme Beings far before dominion falls to any of your servants. I am perhaps more intimately aware of certain aspects, but do not believe that lowers your claim to it.” He turned to the screen, tilting his head towards her to emphasize his further comment’s validity. “And however well you may have impressed upon me your wish to treat each other as equals, you are still and will always be our Lady Zoba, the Four-Horned Djinn of Desires, one of the forty-one Supreme Beings of Ainz Ooal Gown.”

The hand that held hers pressed a little tighter, and she relented the argument of her nature that had grown old and predictable between them with a sigh. He grinned, hovered the mouse over the nondescript icon, and clicked before any hint of hesitation could be construed.

His vision seared at the edges, black encroaching close behind the pressing sting of white, but it was only for a moment. Then it seemed the momentum built enough that it overcame whatever invisible hurdle was before it, and his sight plunged into darkness. Mira’s hand was still apparent in his own, which was excellent; so far, everything seemed tenable.

He gained the vague impression he was standing. Looking down, a familiar stone etched itself beneath his feet, as though a spotlight shone here and here alone. Then fading in was a wall, several walls, the sound of volcanic movement outside--

“Demi? Try to hold still, your head’s moving; you don’t need to move to see. Just imagine looking where you wanna look. Are you ok? Is everything--?”

“Everything is working up to standard,” he breathed. The window before him opened to a rocky expanse, littered with structures that were long ago fragmented by a darkly righteous wrath, river of luminous lava flowing among the wreckage as though the gods themselves had arranged the view. Which of course, they had. For not the first time he admired the wisdom in the placement of this particular window, but in the past, the musings had mostly resided with it’s strategic advantages. Now, more predominantly, he marveled at it’s undeniable beauty. “I’m quite well.”

Silence for a moment, as he looked over the scene. Here, this spot, was where she typically stood before him. To the side was where he often would stand guard when she would visit. It was strange to find himself where he should have found her. Concentrating on the advice Mira gave, he imagined himself stepping to the window.

In no time at all, he was close enough to set his hands on the sill, imagining the hot air caressing his ears as it blew past. Was this what his world had been like to her, before? An impression of a feeling, a hint of sensation? A cold mirror held to the wonders of a world created by hands just like her own? This was not a full dive, as she had said, and yet... this still felt like merely a tease of the Nazarick he had known before. However, even with the admission that this paled in comparison… he cleared his throat before reporting further.

“Movement proves no visible or sensational glitching or lag. The environment seems to hold stable as well,” he added, bringing a fist down on the stone and receiving expected resistance. “What other options should be available to me in this mode for testing?”

They ran through several menu options, tweaking settings and testing limits until Demiurge was satisfied. He nodded, allowing his true neck to take the action, and declared the program safe to use. Mira began to ask a question, but after the stress tests, Demiurge was well enough acquainted with the interface and had closed down the program before the second syllable came from her lips. He removed the gear without another beat, directing his attention to her.

“--Oh…” Mira said as he looked inquisitively as her half-completed question died on her lips. “I thought… you might want to look around more?”

“The offer is quite generous. I will retain the opportunity of further exploration for another time,” he said. “For now, it’s enough that it exists. I would not delay you from beholding it as I have a moment longer.”

She nodded, understanding he didn’t wish the topic to be pressed further. Not yet. “It-it sounds like the seven-point scan worked pretty well, then! I’m excited to see how it feels, translated to the vr tour mode.” The gear was on her own head as she twisted it slightly to the right, aligning the sensors a bit better against her temples.

Demiurge was removing his glasses from his blue jacket. “Please find a comfortable position to rest, and inform me when you are prepared to begin. I will open the file for you,” he simply said.

“Ok…” She tucked her legs so they crossed one another, then stretched her feet to settle them into the cushion of the couch. “I’m ready.”

The mouse hovered for just a moment, but as with his attempt, he did not wish for a delay to give any impression of concern. He clicked.

Mira’s pupils quickly dilated and once again contracted, a breath huffing from a smile as they darted back and forth across an invisible scene. “It’s… It’s so much like I hoped it’d be,” she whispered. “It’s not perfect, but-- Oh, wow, it’s-- I can’t believe this actually…” She paused as her voice broke. A hand patted across the couch cushion in his direction, and Demiurge slid his own into it. She hummed. A minute or two reigned in silence.

She was spectacular, resting here with her hand in his. He recalled the first time he’d beheld her in this human frame, stripped of her majestic djinn qualities. She had appeared no less beautiful in this form as she did in that other world. He had been no less entranced. The technological gems that were graced by her brow had not been alight that evening as they presently were, and he watched as the pulsing lights glowed in rhythm with the growth of her smile.

Yes, the place of his creation was magnificent. But if he could choose, between her and returning to Nazarick’s fiery seventh floor?

It would be her. Every time.

The computer beeped.

“There’s… A message just popped up.” Mira’s smile faded, and Demiurge turned from the laptop’s display to see her reaction. Confused. Her eyes waved back and forth over invisible text as he also returned quickly to the window that had appeared for him.

_“All anomalies concerning task 034x070 discovered and registered. Reacquisition in progress for completion of task.”_

“It’s trying to connect to someth-- Pull the plug. Demi pull the plug, pull it!!” Mira scrambled her hands around to the back of the gear, blindly grasping for the cord.

He had already removed the cord from the laptop, and he swiftly pulled it from the gear as well to relive her struggling. “It’s alright,” he said, “I have it; can you exit the program or return the issue to troubleshooting?” Every inch of his chest seemed to be claimed by his lungs, heartbeat singing through his breath while his spine stung with panic. He did his best to hide it from his tone.

“No, it’s not responding, it says I’m not-- _ahh!_ ”

She had tried to remove the white halo, and a shock had run through her from where she touched the gear. His restraint was gone.

He grabbed for the white ring, ready to tear it from her head in either direction, each claw full of twisted metal and shattered plastic. He didn’t make it that far.

As his fingers connected to her, the fibers of his arms froze in place. Sensation ceased, the change snapping from his hands to the ends of his ears in one swift wave-- and then all was dark.

Dark.

Nothing.

No movement, no feeling...

…He had failed her.

This careful venture into this dangerous quest for information had been at his request. He had allowed her to access the danger further by donning the gear he knew to have harmed her before. Whatever had occurred… this was his folly.

Perhaps it was his last. Perhaps that was fitting.

Throat rasping through a warm breath, he held back the mournful ache that begged to echo through it. He would not forgive himself for this. Outside this darkness, was she well? Was she harmed? Had he vanished and left her alone in that apartment, or was she suffering a fate of her own?

Wait.

Another breath brought with it a trace of sulfur, twisting over his tongue and lighting his nose with the specific scent. It was deepened by ash and smoke, and—

His tail whished through a warm breeze, curling through the dust that rustled from the ground, gravel scattering as the silver spikes etched lines into a stone floor.

This couldn’t be. This place did not exist. Even knowing it’s validity from a life that he had left behind, this place had _ended_. This _could not be_. It was impossible.

A cough sounded out, dry and rasping, and only then did his eyes fly open.

Red tinted the rock-carved room, flickering lightly through shades as the color glowed from the window, but as astonishing as the circumstance was, none of it mattered as much as the figure curled on the ground before him.

Hair draped around her, wide eyes peering out from the mass as the hem of her shirt covered her nose and mouth. Mira grasped for his arms as they enclosed around her, and while he began forming a protection spell, her hands lit between them, white and red aura shifting where they held while a ring of runes circled her arm. Illicit Element. She took a shuddering breath as his borrowed immunity to the heat and environment spread through her, lungs accepting the oxygen available in the stifling air.

“Are you ok?” were her first words.

He almost laughed. Of course.

“I will not accept you worrying over me,” he breathed, pulling her in close. “This is no circumstance to prioritize my well-being over your own.”

She giggled as her chin popped out from her shirt, no longer needing the extra help to breathe and clutching his shirt just as tightly as his arms did her. “I’m ok. I’m fine, now.”

He took a moment to feel her heart beat against him, feel her lungs fill more slowly, then brushed the hair from her face and checked her over visibly for anything out of place. “I’m relieved,” he said, “but you should have allowed me to assist you. Such a high tier spell is taxing, and I would rather you not expend energy that should be kept in reserve for your safety before we decipher our circumstance.”

“…Speaking of which.” Mira pulled away enough to take a timid look around.

Demiurge nodded, his chin grazing her hair. The question didn’t need to be asked to be understood.

“Indeed.” He stood slowly, helping her to her feet as he did. He could hear the familiar cries beyond these walls, sense the balance of the heated seismic shiftings, discerned from the state of the river outside what had recently stalked it’s shores.

The circumstance was impossible, unbelievable. And yet… undeniable.

“Lady Mira. Allow me to do what is only proper: Welcome back to your old home.

“Welcome, to the Tomb of Nazarick.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwwww yeeeeeeeeeaaaah, here we go!!! The next chapter is pretty much ready to go up, and should be coming to an ao3 near you soon!! I'm excited! Next time, we're gonna meet a.... 'familiar face'~
> 
> Come check out my tumblr! I've got things that inspire me, some little gifs I make, and I love doing incorrect quotes for both my fic and Overlord in general! I'll be doing some specific to this fic too, pretty soon! Come drop me a line!
> 
> 🔥[RLotSF Tumblr](https://reallifeonthetheseventhfloor.tumblr.com/)🔥
> 
> ♡♡ Just a place to keep inspiration for my fic, Demiurge stuff, all that jazz. ♡♡


	2. The Man in the Mirror

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵'𝓼 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝓌𝑜

ɹoɹɹıW ǝɥ⊥ uI uɐW ǝɥ⊥

* * *

  
Mira shivered in the heat, staring inside the small treasure room of the Burning Temple. There were lazily organized piles of interesting trinkets inside, most of which were placed here as a decoy to lure invading enemies into believing they had struck it rich when not even a fraction of the guild’s true wealth was displayed. Still, it was significantly tempting mounds of golden coins and darkly glowing artifacts, many of which were duplicates of duplicates of rare drops that weren’t worth anything to the members who already had them. However, with the virtual veil removed from her eyes, Mira could see the allure. The entire room was incredible to behold.

Still, she stood outside, waiting for something far more valuable.

As they had stood by that window, Demiurge’s arms around her had grown tense. He’d pulled back and placed his hands around her face, but the look he wore was not one of romanticism. Instead, it was stern.

“Go to the treasure room,” he told her firmly. “Stand beyond it’s doors and wait. I will attempt to arrange for a Gate to be cast within that will ferry you above ground, where you will cast True Invisibility so no one can discover you. If I do not come for you, run. Do you understand?”

She was shaking her head. “No—No, I don’t understand, _at all_ , I’m not gonna—”

“Nazarick is a home to heteromorphs.” He was guiding her to the door while looking out the window, a view that was quickly obscured as he ushered her further inside the temple. A churning began in her stomach at those words, and suddenly she realized why he had become so implacable. She was not a heteromorph, not anymore. She was human, and an easy target if anything was unfriendly in the slightest. “I will not risk you while I am unsure what that means in Nazarick’s present state, whatever that may be.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she pressed again, with a little less force.

His eyes closed for a moment, a breath filling his lungs. He raised her hand to his lips. She wasn’t reassured by the attention he gave the small gesture of affection.

“I will come for you.”

Then wings burst from his back, and in a flash, he had retreated to the room, leaping to the sky from the stone-edged window. And she had forced herself to follow his instruction.

Mira squeaked in surprise, pulled from her reanalysis of the events as an upright black disk oozed from nothing before her, churning in the room to rotate wider in a misty rim. He’d done it; somehow, he’d gotten a Gate to open right where he’d said he would, and she’d had to wait less than a minute for it to materialize. Now all she needed to do was… leave. Just leave Demiurge to do whatever it was he was planning to do. And wait for him to find her among the stone mausoleums of the tomb’s surface. She curled her arms around her middle.

The portal looked intimidating to flesh-and-blood eyes, she thought, as though stepping through might suffocate her, or steadily drag her in like a pit of tar, or devour her once inside with an acidic hunger. If she was honest, her first instinct was to refuse the shortcut and find her own way to the surface; even traversing the floors between here and there felt like it had a better chance of survival to her instincts.

As menacing as it looked to her fear, Mira was well aware in her mind that the portal was safe. Gate was a common spell in Yggdrasil among higher level players, and she’d used them hundreds if not thousands of times. But…

She remembered the feel of his kiss on her fingers, the fervor in his voice as he swore to come for her. She felt the finalizing steadiness he’d meant to draw from it.

Her chest felt too tight to breathe. There was really no choice.

She cast True Invisibility.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He had spotted the figure nearly beyond the horizon, far beyond what he knew Mira could see. It was merely a speck at such a distance, but by the way it moved, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the speck was a full figure, present and ready to make it’s intentions known.

He had even recognized the hue, and the thoughts that had run through his mind were almost numbingly swift. He didn’t have all the information he needed. That made this all very uncertain. To an unacceptable level.

Sending her away, even if it was merely back to the temple’s treasure room, brought the highest reward for risk. So he formulated a plan with the facts he held, sent her there, and went without to greet his guest.

Or perhaps, he thought, watching as great leathery wings brought the figure before him, the true guest was him after all.

Tail ticking slightly, the hovering figure brought a black gloved hand to the bridge of round silver frames, holding them in place over observing crystal orbs. A red suit was unbothered by the breeze of the wings, and a fanged mouth hummed while the tips of ears raised a bit higher.

Demiurge stood prepared, smile on his face, as another Demiurge, ruler of the seventh floor, a perfect reflection of who he once was, analyzed his presence.

It was like gazing into a mirror that echoed the past.

As he’d expected, there was enough time for him to place his Message successfully, end the communication, and open his arms in a bow before his double could begin to speak.

“Greetings,” he began. “I’d introduce myself, but I’m quite certain such a formality would be a tad redundant.”

“Indeed,” the red-clad other responded, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as well. “I take it you’re stalling for something? Could it be that you’re attempting to keep me from—?”

Demiurge’s chest suddenly ached, and from the abrupt end at his double’s sentence, it was apparent he felt the loss as well. In her reality, Demiurge had sensed it only as a trickle when at her side. The sense of a Supreme Being’s proximity. _Mira’s_ proximity. He hadn’t yet recognized it’s strength here, in the need to strategize around everything else. Here in this world, it was strong enough to be felt even at this distance. She must have walked through the Gate, he thought with relief. She would be safe. She now was much more likely to be alright.

The congenial expression on the red-clad devil’s face vanished, and hands visibly twitched with the desire to call forth claws. Mira was out of harm’s way for now, but… he wasn’t quite sure the same could be said of himself.

No, he couldn’t give in just yet. He had told her he would come for her. He would strive for that.

“I don’t like the mysteries you’ve arrived with,” his double’s voice churned with the growl of a fire. “I will allow you one opportunity to stand down; you surely understand that you’ll be quickly overpowered when others arrive.”

“Without a doubt,” he agreed. Claws burst from his hands as he flashed forward, and a clash broke across the air of the seventh floor as the red-suited double blocked with his own set. “I’ll have to make this quick, then.”

He retreated before the silver tail could whip around and catch a wing. Demiurge began to summon a minion, extending an upturned hand in a manner he knew would be recognized. The ploy worked, his double rushing him to prevent the summoning from completion, and instead met with a fist of hellfire at the base of a wing.

But the move was a sacrifice, and Demiurge barked as ice encased his claws and seized up his wrist. He twisted midair to prevent his enemy’s touch from finding a wing as well.

Another blow was parried, drawing in an attack to meet a burst of magic, followed by a repositioning to allow another spell to begin and be cut off, as the next swipe of claws grazed it’s mark, reacting to catch a wing rather than a leg, which pulled an attack from one side to the other which opened reaction time for another spell which recalled an attack to evade the effect and forced a defensive position which was avoided by canceling the interaction with a counterspell—… 

Each move was calculated by a dozen equations, a hundred prepared paths, reactions timed long before the action to call them forth began. This was a chess game of two pieces, with multiple moves and no rule of turns. And it was getting more ruthless by the second.

He knew how this fight was going to end. He’d known it as he sent her away. Despite his wish it wasn’t so, he was well aware of exactly what his fate would be at the end of this battle.

Still, they were truly well matched. He found a prideful solace in that. If he had not lost a minute ounce of his edge compared to this version of himself that had remained vigilant in Nazarick, he might have lasted until the fight was unbalanced by the arrival of someone else. He might not have realized after two minutes of battle that, in about five strikes, two parries, and one fist of hellfire, he would be a millisecond too slow to prevent the second freezing grasp at a wing. He might not have gone crashing to the ground under the force of the next stab. And he might not have had to sneer at the words this other spoke as he strained under his claws. He might not have determined that this version of himself was not to be trusted with his Mira.

A sharp exhale of disgust, and the double’s nose wrinkled in accusation. “You reek of human,” he hissed, then positioned himself over his prey, speaking with all the authority a floor guardian should.

“Tell me what you’ve done. Where is the human?”

Then, he knew that much? Had the devil seen that he’d rushed a woman away from the window, even with the swift precautions he’d taken? Well. It was of no matter now. Demiurge would not make it to her, he would fail her yet again. But he had fulfilled his purpose after all, in the end. She had made it far enough to survive, and he had done his duty to protect her. Demiurge laughed. “She’s out of your reach.”

A shake rattled the end of the red-clad devil’s silver tail. Slowly, he dragged his claws from their grasp in Demiurge’s chest, earning a grunt as he did. Demiurge closed his eyes as the fuming devil straightened his posture, claws scratching against each other as he drew both arms across his torso to strike again. He might die, here and now. Much more likely, he would simply be injured until his enemy felt satisfied in his victory, then kept and tortured in the prison of the fifth floor to see if he would yield any answers.

He would never yield any answers. He was sure his enemy knew that. Thinking back on the taste of her hand against his lips, he steeled himself for what was to come.

These blows were simply the beginning of a long, merciless death.

He waited for them to fall.

...And waited.

...Why wasn’t he striking? It was illogical. What could have prevented him from—

That’s when he realized that the empty place in his chest was once again filled with more than the memory of her touch. It was _full_. As if—

His eyes flew open and saw before him not a streak of red cloth, not a slash of black claws, not the silver strike of a tail. He saw the flow of a mane of hair, trembling as the woman beneath also shook. Her arms were outstretched, shielding him from the blow he had anticipated.

Mira.

She hadn’t left at all. She’d never used the Gate. She had returned under the same invisibility spell he had told her to utilize, returned to him to see him battling, witnessed him fall from the sky. And she had rushed to stand between him and what must have appeared to be a final blow.

Struggling forward with a panic that called forth energy he didn’t know he had, he reached for her. The words etched forth from him. “Wh-at are you— _Go,_ it’s n-not—”

She ignored his wheeze, didn’t turn to his faltering reach. She puffed out her chest and looked at the other devil. Who… had not attacked her at all.

Did he understand who she was? Or was he pausing in his assured victory, merely trying to uncover the trick he suspected this must be?

A ring of runes spun to life around her arm, and she held it forward. “Spirit Bolt!!”

The sound of something being struck echoed in the silence. No retaliation came. Demiurge began to struggle to his feet; she should be behind him, not in front—

“L-leave him alone,” she growled. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch him again.” Once again the light circled her hand, and she took in a breath to cast another spell—

“ _ENOUGH!!_ ”

The bellow that came with a sudden flash of color made Demiurge speed to his goal, twisting his frame in front of Mira’s arm to become a shield in kind to her. And then he saw from whom the bellow had come, and fell, shaken, to his knees.

Lord Momonga, Leader of the Guild of Ainz Ooal Gown and Ruler of Nazarick, Overlord Lich of the highest rank, towered over them all. Others were arriving at the scene, and they too halted at his command and fell in supplication.

Everything was silent as a moment stretched, longer and longer over the rumble of lava creeping in its riverbed. Demiurge stiffened his chest from a cough, keeping his balance despite the black rock floor rotating in his vision.

Then from behind him, her voice cracked. “ ‘Monga? ...Is… Is that really you?”

The skeleton balked back at her words. Then, slowly, it crept forward. When he came so close that Demiurge was all that lay between them, he finally spoke again.

“Zoba?”

She barked a laugh that sounded more like a choke. “In the flesh.”

Demiurge didn’t resist as the lich continued past him, the imposing figure collapsing to his knees like the rest of the room. It didn’t quite bring him to eye level with the human woman before him, but it brought them close. Another shudder rattled the bones.

Skeletal arms surrounded Mira, and she gasped as the trembling continued, a skull ducking around her shoulder and pulling her close into the folds of his black and purple robes. Metacarpals balled up locks of hair as each unneeded breath shook through it’s exhale.

“I had thought to have lost you forever,” that deep tone murmured into her ear.

Demiurge watched as the water welled up in Mira’s stunned eyes. A whimper escaped, and he saw her hands reach through his robes to encircle his ribs, white knuckles grasping the fabric for support in holding the large bones of her old friend.

Lord Momonga himself had somehow remained to exist within this miraculously alive Nazarick. And he had found them. And he, Demiurge was now certain, would protect Mira. She was safe.

Still stiff from the pain, Demiurge glanced around the clearing as his Lady embraced their guild leader. The elf twins Aura and Mare had come, as had the Evil Lords. They all seemed as confused as was to be expected of the situation. It seemed there would be many questions to be answered, most likely sooner rather than later.

He scanned across the faces shifting back and forth from the sight of Mira and Lord Momonga embracing to him, and landed upon the glare of his reflection once again. The devil bore evidence of their scuffle. Demiurge couldn’t restrain the twitch of a frown as he noted how a sleeve of the red jacket had torn and an edge of the tie had frayed. His own suit of blue had a burn in a shoulder and a slice missing from the hem, along with holes peppering both shirt and jacket from his adversary’s claws puncturing his chest. Not bad for garments that bore no magical properties… but still, a shame.

In a moment their reassessment of each other was complete, and a polite tilt forward in the red-suited devil’s head was offered. He returned the gesture, gaze just as piercing and unmoved.

The mutual conclusion was silently agreed upon, and their attention returned to the two Supreme Beings who were at last pulling apart to take another bewildered look at each other. The identical men understood clearly that cooperation between them would be requested. They were willing to put forth the finest of efforts to such a cause. And, they concurred quite congenially on their feelings concerning the matter.

The distrust between them was mutual.

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, I suppose you could say things between the two devils got pretty... _heated!_ Eh? Eh??
> 
> Chapter three should be up in a few days! Unless I get too into writing my next RLotSF chapter, then it may be a little longer than that. But, it's coming along, so it should be pretty soon! I'm having a lot of fun writing this and trying something new, and I'm so glad you all are enjoying it too! Thanks for all the support, you guys are so awesome! See you in the comments!!
> 
> 🔥[RLotSF Tumblr](https://reallifeonthetheseventhfloor.tumblr.com/)🔥
> 
> ♡♡ Just a place to keep inspiration for my fic, Demiurge stuff, all that jazz. ♡♡


	3. That Good Night

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵'𝓼 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

ʇɥɓıN poo⅁ ʇɐɥ⊥

* * *

The room was _huge_. And… oddly empty, for her tastes.

Mira had tried to argue that they could stay in the room she had made as Zoba, but after Momonga took one look at the disorganized cacophony, he insisted that she required a suite with a bedroom that spoke more to human comforts… or at least one with a fully functioning bathroom attached. She was too tired to push back, and he _did_ have a pretty legitimate point with that last bit. Moving into her own room would have to wait… if she could ever figure out how to fix that problem at all.

She was still a little confused as to how she ended up in _his_ room, but he’d seemed so anxious to offer all he could, it had been hard to say no.

The lanterns along the wall gave a steady light that bathed her in a purple glow, and she had to smile a bit at her friend’s dedication to the aesthetic he so carefully curated in all his belongings. The dramatic room gave a regal sense of grandeur as well as imposing darkness, the two themes together demanding a respect and fear befitting the aura that emanated from the man himself.

Mira hopped high enough to fall across the mattress of the massive four-poster bed, giggling tiredly. Her hands hid her face.

“What are we going to do,” she whispered.

Fingers wrapped around her palms and pulled them away, blue-suited demon leaning in to gently kiss her cheek. “ _You_ will rest,” Demiurge answered softly. “While I go inform Lord Ainz of all that has transpired for us.”

_Ainz_. That change in moniker had, strangely enough, felt like one of the most defining details of this whole ordeal.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to call him that with a straight face,” Mira admitted, using Demiurge’s support to sit up. “I mean, on top of everything else, having to respond to a new name? Why in the world did he choose to— No… no, I don’t know what he’s been through,” she scolded herself, “maybe when I know more… maybe it’ll make perfect sense. Maybe at least _some_ of this will make more sense.”

“Rest will aid in that as well,” Demiurge pressed again, leaning down to remove shoes from her feet as they hung off the mattress, well above the floor. Mira scoffed and lifted a leg to do the other herself, but just as quickly Demiurge slipped the heel of the remaining shoe down as the leg rose, and tossed both shoes to the side before reaching up to begin unbuttoning her shirt.

“Demi… When you say, _all_ that transpired… ”

He didn’t stop in his methodical undressing, but looked to her with an upturn of his lips. “If you’re concerned over a retelling of our moments of intimacy, you have nothing to fear.”

A rush of relief flooded through her. “Oh good. I-I mean, I figured, but—yeah, I’d rather not—yeah.”

“Of course. It would be a poor political move to reveal such a thing so soon. We should maintain mystique around your nature until we better establish who if any would dare question your place as a Supreme Being.” He slid the blouse from her shoulders and placed it folded on the side table, tossing the silk pajamas that a maid had delivered earlier over his arm before turning to continue attending her. Mira crossed her arms over her chest.

“Wait, what do you mean? Why would we—you know I hate the ‘supremity’ thing, why… I don’t want that, I don’t wanna _be_ that.”

He sighed. “Yes, I know. And I must ask you to forgive me for this. But such a strategy is the best play in keeping you safe, in reassuring that all of Nazarick understands that you are it’s master, and that no harm is to ever befall you.” He brought his hands around her face, forehead coming to press lightly against her own. “I ask you to forgive me because this fulfills my selfish need to reaffirm your safety. If we are to make this our home, how we establish ourselves is vital. I would be a steward at your side, and you a Supreme Being with none beyond Lord Ainz to rival you. _This_ is how we find stability, and after that is established, we can begin to query after other stages of relationships, both with the tomb’s other denizens… and, with each other.”

The last four words struck only after they were spoken, their meaning snapping like a piece of fruit plucked before it had been able to fully ripen.

“Oh.” Mira ducked her head softly from his hands and traded her undergarment for the silk nightgown, pretending the bitter aftertaste wasn’t haunting her tongue. “I can understand that, if you… think it’s the best move. Ok, yeah.”

He frowned. Squirmed. Sighed again. “It is far from the desire of my heart. But it _is_ the only course of preparation acceptable to my mind.”

She massaged her fingers over the fabric. Pulling it over her head, she slunk her body through slowly, as though she could undergo a transformation in the equipping of it. Her face popped out of the neck, hair frizzing a bit from her stalling.

“…Why can’t I come to the meeting again?”

“Lord Ainz requested that you rest. You cast enough spells for one afternoon to warrant a reprise.” He pulled down the covers and gestured meaningfully towards her.

She grumbled and crawled up to the pillow, allowing him to tuck her feet beneath the sheets and replace the blanket over her.

Leaning in, he gently kissed her lips, and she raised a hand to massage the tip of his ear, keeping him close just a little longer. “I will return as soon as I am able, not a moment later,” he promised.

She looked at the burnt fabric over his shoulder, and dropped a hand to it before he could object. Mend was cast quickly, and his suit returned to it’s unmarred state in moments. He huffed as she smirked, eyelids growing heavy. Then her brow furrowed, and the events of the battle that caused the damage echoed between them both.

“Demi,” she muttered, “there’s another one of you.”

“Is there? I was under the impression I had stumbled across a rather handsome mirror.”

She rolled her eyes, but the grin broke through for a moment before concern clouded her expression once again. “I’m… _not_ ok about him hurting you.”

“My double was only following his best instincts as guardian of his floor. His actions upon encountering a likely threat were commendable.”

Mira tucked her chin under the blankets. “I’m still not ok about it.”

Demiurge’s tail began to wave at the end, twitching with an upward pull. “Mmm. We can discuss it further later. There will be much to speak of when I return. For now, rest. For me, rest and be safe.”

She nodded, and kept her eyes open long enough to watch him retreat from the room. The door shut quietly behind him, and her eyelids drooped closed with one last sigh. “I’d rather you stay,” she whispered into the empty room. “Please be safe, too.”

* * *

  
  
  


“My Lord, surely you will not entertain such a request!” Albedo’s hands were in fists, wings fluttering in disdain. “What he asks is beyond necessary. None here would dare spread needless gossip from your private meetings! To even suggest it is an affront!”

Demiurge remained with his head bowed, arm over his chest. Albedo was just as he remembered her, fiery and passionate about her duties, while level-headed enough to create a decent argument for her cause. The thought brought a smile to his face as his ears twitched. “I make this request not for me, nor from any doubt of the dedication belonging to the eight-legged assassins or yourself, Albedo. It is only made as the information I hold belongs to my Lady, and I would not allow such a sacred thing to go beyond the limits she is already aware it will reach. Again, I would ask forgiveness for my caution, but,” he dared to raise his eyes to his Lord’s gaze. “It is my strong belief you will agree that matters of her other home are to be treated with… reverence.” Demiurge tilted his head, looking back to the succubus. “Would you not trust me, Albedo? Am I so far from the demon you know?”

“You have apparently done a sufficient job protecting Lady Zoba in her current state. But the details of that enterprise are unknown, as proves the topic of this debate!” Albedo took a step forward, angling herself slightly in front of Ainz. “Your absence, however it came about, as well as the very validity of your place here is all under question! I for one would not—”

“Albedo, that is enough.” Growing to his full height, Ainz stood from the chair of his secondary office. “Your concern is noted. Were I in your position, I would harbor the same. However…” A serious stare connected with Demiurge’s frames. “I am not. I am Ainz Ooal Gown, ruler of Nazarick, and you must trust in my judgment. You have my word that nothing of ill intent will occur in your absence. And, even if it were to come to that, I would be more than able to see myself through the trial. That is final,” he added, dropping his humorous tone as Albedo opened her mouth for a worried plea. “You will leave us to have this conversation in private.”

“I am humbled by your gracious allowance, my Lord,” Demiurge cooed as Albedo and the eight-legged assassins shut the grand doors behind them, following a rebuked apology and restrained arguments. “In all honesty, it is indeed a request I nearly hesitated to make. Your understanding in it’s necessity is more than appreciated.”

Ainz gestured for Demiurge to follow him to the couches across the room. “Well, if we are being honest with one another, I must admit I recognize my poor judgment in the allowance. You are a bit of an unknown at the moment, despite Zob-- Mira’s insistence that you have been her greatest ally. But, this risk to me is insignificant to learning all I can to make her comfortable and at ease. With that acknowledged,” he sat on the cushions, Demiurge politely following suit, “please start at the beginning. Everything you are able to convey while she recovers, I am anxious to hear.”

  
  
  


* * *

She was positive she’d never slept in sheets so soft. She almost wished for a bit of scratchiness, just to make it all feel a little more real.

The respite of dreams evaded Mira, instead offering her the embrace of dark. Her mind was filled with only her thoughts and a vague sensation of floating through tangible silence. It wasn’t unlike when she had attempted to access her inventory, and had reached into it’s inky depths and lilted farther and farther into the expanse, forgetting her sense of self and concept of time, and…

Well. The emptiness wasn’t so calming for her anymore. It was all overlaid with an evasive fear, the sense that somehow, she needed to escape.

How long had she been asleep, anyway? Had she really even fallen into rest at all, or had she just begun to drift off and let her mind wander to that comparable memory of endless ink? A small sigh crossed her lips, and she let her eyes float open as much as was comfortable, partially remembering the purple lights that should intrude if this whole thing hadn’t in fact been a dream—

Red eyes glinted at her from the dark.

“HhhhHHOLY HECKIN’—!!”

“IT’S ALRIGHT, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY—”

Mira’s hands were glowing blue as two skeletal ones shot up between them, trying to wave her fear away as she skittered across the bed. She panted, still dizzy from sleep, blinking at the profusely apologizing skeleton that had been hovering over her bedside.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten— You’re alright, everything is fine— Do you need anything? Would you like—ah, a glass of water?” The two dots of red glinted as the jaw pulled back up, Mira watching as metacarpals vanished into a pocket of black and returned with a clear pitcher. “Perhaps? ...Perhaps not?...”

Mira blinked as the recognition hit her. Momonga. Right. She was in Momonga’s room.

_Ainz’s_ room.

“S-sure… yeah,” she was able to get out.

The heavy adornments on his shoulders pointed downward as he shrunk slightly. “...I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?”

She took in a shaky breath, glancing to the bedside table and feeling immediate gratitude that Demiurge had so carefully folded her clothes with underwear hidden from immediate sight. She grasped for the blanket to raise in front of her nightgown. “You probably don’t have to try this hard,” she admitted.

Ainz groaned, free hand moving to cover half of his skull as he averted his face.

“I _am_ sorry. It’s become a natural reaction to retreat here after a conversation with the guardians, when I need a moment to think, and I didn’t realize until after arriving…” The hand vanished into his robes as it dropped down, eyes turning back to her. The red lights seemed to fade slightly, as though softening. “I wondered for a moment if I had at last lost my mind, or if you were really here, resting in my bed.”

Her hands played with the blanket.

Suddenly his shoulders leapt back up. “Th-that, uh, that might have sounded— I wasn’t being creepy or anything like—Well, of course I wasn’t, I can’t even—er, I only meant, the fact that you’re here, as in present at all is—” He groaned, hand drooping at the wrist after waving desperately in front of him.

In an instant his posture relaxed again, panic somehow back under control. “Forgive me for waking you. I should leave you to rest.

He faced the door, moving to leave. Mira bit her lip.

“Um…”

He froze, the hood of his robes turning back just enough that Mira was able to see his white cheekbone appear beneath the fabric.

“What about that glass of water?”

Moments later, Ainz was sitting at the edge of his bed while Mira sat crisscrossed, pillow under her arms as she sipped cool water from a glass slowly, as though it were instead a mug of steaming tea.

“For some reason, as a human my spells wear me out super fast,” she was explaining. “I dunno if it’s just the fact that I don’t have as much MP, or because my spells are designed to be used by a djinn, or what, but I can’t do more than a few high level spells in a day before it wipes me out.”

“Yes, he… your Demiurge, the one you arrived with, he did explain that. He’s requested permission to peruse Ashurbanipal for any further light on the subject, as well as gathering equipment and items that might be of use to you.”

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds like him,” she chuckled, eyebrows knitting together. “So… you guys talked? About stuff. What, uh… what stuff were you able to…”

His head nodded down as though in acknowledgment of the weight of the subject. “He explained that you both were in… reality. Outside the game of Yggdrasil, that is, rather than whatever sort of reality we are in now. As well as your mishap with your nerve gear, and your arrival here to his best reasoning. He had more than a few praiseworthy things to say about how you conduct your life and your business with friends and neighbors.”

A blush covered her cheeks. “Yeah, well… if the guardians here are anything like how he acts, I’m sure you know just how exaggerated that praise is.”

He barked a laugh. “After conversing with him, I’d say he’s much more relaxed in that regard than I am accustomed to. I have no reason to disbelieve any of it.”

She cringed. “The guardians here are _worse?_ Ugh… Do you know how hard it was to get him just to stop kneeling all the time?!”

His head threw back in another laugh. “Ha! I apologize, but that’s something you’re going to have to grow used to around here. I’m not sure how you achieved it with him, but believe me, the rest won’t be persuaded so easily. I worry it would cause them no small amount of discomfort, actually. The structured hierarchy is something deeply embedded in them.”

“Oh.” She rubbed a thumb on the edge of the glass. “Is… Is he pretty different from the others, you think?”

His jaw lowered, but before responding, he glanced over. Her eyebrows were pulled together again. “The blue suit certainly sets him apart,” he joked instead. She smiled, but the lines in her brow didn’t shift. “…Does the idea worry you?”

“Well…” She took in a breath and held it for a moment, eyes darting left and right while she attempted to piece thoughts into words. “Maybe? I know he’s done some changing, but, I don’t want him to… to not fit in? I don’t want him to feel…” She glanced at Ainz, then looked down into her cup. “...displaced. It’s his home, and… I dunno, I just want him to be ok. He’s been there for _me_ at every turn.”

“Ah.” The skeleton’s red eyes looked at hers as she carefully lifted them back up. “You are concerned for his integration into Nazarick?”

Her face snapped back up. “He already picked a fight with— with the, the other guy. Which, again, sorry, about all that, uh— but, I mean, that probably doesn’t endear him to anybody right off the bat, right? But, this is his _home._ It was so stupefying to hear him talk about how it was, it was all so real for them before, and both of us thought it was all just _gone,_ but now it’s not, and we’re here?? And now, he’s rushing around the tomb trying to work, which is what he does when he’s overly stressed, he just pushes himself harder, and— I mean, he _has_ to feel _so lost_ , because he constantly tries to solve my problems for me like this, and… I don’t even know what my problems are right now. I don’t know… what I should do. What do I do?” She was looking back down at her cup, ripples waving across it as her hands shook. Her eyes were tinting red, but she raised her neck to face the canopy and blinked fiercely with a sigh and a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be just blurting this all—”

“No, I understand.” A skeletal hand slid across the blanket to sit near her knee. “You don’t know what’s expected of you, and you don’t know what to expect. Believe me, I can in a way relate to that particular vein of uncertainty. But trust me when I say this, Mira.” Their eyes met again, and this time Mira didn’t see just the red, glinting at her from the dark. “Whatever is to come next, I will be there with you. This time, I won’t sit on the sidelines. You have my word.”

Mira’s eyes grew wider. “...On the…? ‘Monga… I was the one who pulled away, it was my fault we— you didn’t do anything wrong,” she insisted, leaning forward as her hair flounced in her determined denial. Her hand rested next to his as she continued, “I didn’t really get close to _anyone_ because I was so… so afraid of… I dunno. Besides, I’m just… glad you’re here now." She pursed her lips in a smirk and shook her head. "I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here now.”

A rumble came from his chest as a hand moved behind his head. “Ah… I’m glad you’re here as well,” he said. “It seems you truly haven’t changed.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he stood. “I have kept you from rest long enough. The worries you have expressed can wait a few more hours at the very least, and I am sure several of them will sort themselves out well enough. I happen to know Demiurge can be quite… resourceful, and I imagine that is a trait yours has retained as well. Things will all be fine, Mira. You have my word, as ruler of Nazarick: You will find yourself at home here once again.”

Mira felt her chest swell at his words. He sounded so sure, it was easy to believe. There was something about him now that felt both reminiscent of when they were at their closest, messing around as they went about building up the guild, and something new that she couldn't completely put a finger on. Something about the way he stood. It was like… like she was standing beside him as he roleplayed the powerful overlord lich mage, ready to smite his enemies with staggering unholy strength. Except now, it wasn’t a game. Now, he was wearing that role as surely as he wore his robe. And he wore it well.

“Thank you, ‘Monga,” she said. A yawn threatened and she stifled it, her mind at last a bit more soothed and turning back to the promise of sleep. Maybe this time, it would hold some peace.

“An attendant will be stationed outside. Again, the hierarchy,” he reminded her with a chuckle as she pouted. “Allow them to assist should you be in need of anything. Please think of it as being as much for their peace of mind as your comfort.” He danced a finger over the guild ring on his hand, and nodded his head one last time. She smiled and nodded as well, holding back a giggle at his awkward hesitation between the door and the ring.

“Ok, I’ll try, then. Thanks.”

“Yes. Good. Ah… Sleep well, Mira,” he concluded, and in a fragmented flash, he was gone.

The room felt immense again without the large skeleton in it. But despite that, it felt a little less empty.

Mira shuffled to the edge of the bed, placed the glass beside her folded clothes, then pulled the blankets back up as she lowered her head to a pillow. Things would be ok. Things might be crazy and might have gotten off to an intense start, but… she was in a warm bed, in a place she knew and loved, with people who cared for her and whom she cared for. Despite the turmoil, despite the fact that things weren’t exactly normal anymore… Sleep gently pulled her eyes closed.

She believed him. Everything was going to be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, now that we've gotten a bit of setup out of the way, next chapter we can get back to some action! There's some pretty obvious issues that are gonna have to be dealt with, and Demi sure ain't one to sit on his haunches! And 'Monga--... Ainz? Whatever, he's got current affairs that still need to be dealt with. Nazarick hasn't been sitting on it's haunches either, after all! There are other ruckuses Nazarick has caused that need to be dealt with. Plus, the other Guardians have to be pretty desperate for some info, right? Mira's got some meet-and-greet to handle! There's a lot going on!!
> 
> (Also, side note because I'm so flippin' excited I have to include it in the author's notes, new icon!! (Made by Amanda Heard on twitter as @batberryboo, check out her cute comic!) I've had the same one for years, I think since I first made this account actually, but Download077 spoiled me by treating me to this wonderful gift of Zoba, and holy cow she is so freakin cute in it, how could I resist?! Thank you so so much!!)
> 
> 🔥[RLotSF Tumblr](https://reallifeonthetheseventhfloor.tumblr.com/)🔥
> 
> ♡♡ Just a place to keep inspiration for my fic, Demiurge stuff, all that jazz. ♡♡
> 
> Hm? What do you mean, a double meaning? No no, the title is just about how she's sleeping, it's not referencing a poem written by Dylan Thomas as a vague undercurrent warning of things to come, what a strange idea. What? I described the sleep's pull as "gentle"? What's that got to do with anything, I don't understand?


	4. Prepare for the Worst

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵'𝓼 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇

ʇsɹoM ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ ǝɹɐdǝɹԀ

* * *

Everything was terrible.

Demiurge held his grumblings within him, instead painting a light smile across his face as he leafed through the mountain of books sprawling across the small library table.

Ashurbanipal didn’t have much information on the subjects he desired; magic classes crossing designated species, travel between dimensions through use of technology, the doubling of oneself in a permanent fashion. There was of course, some information on each subject. Instructions on how to gain magic beyond racial restraints, how to traverse the realms of Yggdrasil using tech similar but not exact to the anatomy of CZ Delta, the creation of golems when one was in fact a golem themselves.

They were pieces of information to be sewn together. But there was nothing that could properly, or partially, explain their circumstance. Nothing he didn’t already know.

No one else could know his concerns, however. The rest of Nazarick must remain clueless as to how much preparation would be undertaken to ensure Mira would be safe and respected, which was why the majority of the mish-mash of volumes before him revolved around educating himself as to information that had been added since his departure.

A hand went to his forehead, leaning on two fingers in restraint to the groan he wished to produce. When had he become so untrusting of his fellow denizens? What made him doubt them so, when before he would have simply assumed they would have nothing but respect for a Supreme Being, no matter the circumstance?

Much. Much had happened. Much had changed.

He wondered what his double was up to.

Likely, he was attempting to unravel the situation himself, in the time available to him to do so. On top of the duties the man had as guardian, it seemed he’d begun laying a research-based claim to this new world that had somehow welcomed the existence of the tomb. According to written and cataloged reports, this little “venture” was to the northwest, the results of which seemed to have reached a viable level of success. Enough, from what he estimated, to warrant growth and refinement of the operation.

The wording was clever, as would be expected. But Demiurge had more than a suspicion as to the nature behind the word “cattle.”

His fangs grit behind his smile.

This was getting him nowhere. He needed to move on; there were several items he hypothesized could aid in his goals, and he should acquire them before Mira woke. Straightening his tie as he stood, he glanced around for Titus; for the sake of politeness, he should apologize to the librarian for leaving such a mess. Now, where has the skeletal mage gotten off to?... 

“Titus has stationed himself at the desk near the entrance. Surely, only because he didn’t wish to disturb his newest guest.”

Demiurge froze and sighed at the voice. Of course.

“He _is_ quite intuitive when it comes to serving his patrons,” he returned monotonically. “He has a talent for determining when they do not wish to be disturbed.” Turning, he widened his grin, casting a half-bow to the devil that had stepped out from the bookshelves. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Or, is this thoughtful interruption merely a chanced friendly greeting?”

The devil’s tail flicked as his smile remained the same. “I understand you had a private audience with Lord Ainz. What a privilege that must have been. The faith you have garnered already is admittedly quite enviable, between both of our illustrious Supreme Ones.”

Ah.

“Our Lady seems quite bonded to you.”

Yes. There it was.

“I made myself amenable to her needs while we were isolated from Nazarick’s protection, which as you may expect required adjustments in the typical structure of a guardian’s duties,” Demiurge replied nonchalantly, “but it seems you would infer something else? Perhaps it is something she could answer for you. Would you care to approach the Supreme Being you have so recently… displeased, and inquire after her personal affairs?”

The smile lifted in a corner to reveal a fang. Ah, yes, this was a battle his opposite would not win so easily. Not with _that_ event on his side.

He recalled the _thud_ of Spirit Bolt hitting it’s mark. The anger in her voice as she reprimanded. The lack of reaction that followed.

He had been this man once, before appearing in her home. He knew what numbing connections must have been sparking between neurons in that moment. And he had an idea as to the unsavory guilt that must be gnawing with infected teeth.

It was a rather easy thing to weaponize.

A hand slid behind his back as the man in red extended the other to gesture at the massive collection of documents, maps, and volumes on the table, striding over to touch the deeply stained wood. “I must congratulate you as well on your dedication to reacquainting yourself with affairs you’ve regrettably neglected, as well as that which has since been added to the greatness of Nazarick. It’s quite fitting; Have you discovered your new place yet in the further progress of our Lord? I’m sure you’ll be quite thrilled over how seamlessly it serves him.”

A chill ran from Demiurge’s neck down his spine. “A ‘thrilling’ prospect to hear indeed. And what _are_ Lord Ainz thoughts on what is, of course, still a proposal?”

“Well, the other guardians are already more than interested in the idea. Our Lord will undoubtedly be pleased with their enthusiasm, let alone by the well-crafted solution.”

“...I see.”

The smile was back in full, snarl gone and replaced with a smug sense of pity. “I couldn’t help but notice Lady Zoba’s lack of proper gear upon her arrival. I assume that is your next order of business to attend to. But, speaking of the others, if there are reintroductions among Nazarick’s guardians you would like to complete, I would be happy to see to such needs of our Lady in your place?”

Demiurge had used his play. He had emphasized his closeness with Mira. Now, his reflection emphasized what advantage belonged to him.

The whole of Nazarick.

“The consideration is appreciated,” Demiurge replied in a low tone, scraping one small tome off the surface and into his claws. “But I would personally see to the highest priority of serving my Lady. If you would excuse me, I believe I will finish my research on the move.”

Titus was not at the front desk to receive an apology for the disarray. Demiurge left anyway.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The rings shone in hues of gold and silver, platinum and steel, even greens and blues and purples in the cases where they were carved purely from precious gems. They stood stark against Demiurge’s bare palms, ringing out like gentle bells where they rolled past one another as he tilted them for her viewing.

“I’ve ascertained this set should bring you the greatest gain for now,” he said, collecting them into one hand and setting them on the bed beside her. “Together they increase your reserves of magic and limit the drain of each use. However, I would request you not test it today unless you so deem it completely necessary,” he joked. The tone was joking, at least.

She smiled back, glancing at the pile and running a few fingers over it. She recognized some of them as pieces from her room, while others she knew he must have gathered from the treasury. A Ring of Aided Mastery, a Trifling Trinket, a guild ring, even one she’d kept as a trophy when her hunting party jumped a high-leveled human player who had been trying to gank her. The metal was cold under her fingertips.

Demiurge gestured to the maid standing at the door. “Miss Yuri Alpha can assist you with the dress you suggested as well. I was able to find it among the others in your quarters.”

Mira looked at Yuri as she bowed over the dress in her arms. “I am ready to serve you, my Lady,” she promised solemnly. The awkwardness of the word “serve” almost made Mira address it, but she had heard the hesitance in Demiurge’s voice.

“What? Is there something wrong?”

He placed his hands behind his back, taking a moment in the action, and she saw him calculate his words. He was being cautious. He was trying not to appear too familiar toward her in front of Yuri.

Mira felt a downward tug at her lips.

“It is a spectacular choice, of course,” he said. “The appearance is quite impressive. I do not recall you wearing it much in the past, however. Was there a reason for that?”

The direction of the tug on her lips changed. Oh, there was a reason for that.

Peroronchino had seen the dress as a possible drop item for a quest, and after hearing a rumor, had tried to get each female member of the guild to retrieve it with him. Mira at last had agreed to help out a fellow member in need of a teammate, not realizing the scheme he had brewing. But at the end of the quest, when the Sun-Bright Beholder enemy had been at last brought to the ground and defeated, they’d both been in for quite a surprise.

A chest of the same gleam as the beholder appeared within the carcase, and Pero excitedly dashed in to retrieve it. As he threw it open, a glow increased until it overtook his avatar completely, and when he came back into focus Mira started sputtering in laughter. After a bit of fruitless questioning, the birdman looked down and squawked in disdain.

It seemed he had been misinformed; the gaudy over-burdened lolita dress did _not_ auto-equip to the female members of the party. Rather, it appeared upon whichever player first laid claim to the giant golden chest.

It had turned out to be a nice moment, actually, she remembered. Pero had apologized, and they each shared a bit about their own personal tastes. Both in clothes, and in people. In the end, he had gifted the dress to her as a peace offering, and she had given him the other lolita-themed knick knacks in the chest to adorn his npc’s closet.

It wasn’t until afterwards that she realized the dress had been auto-fitted to Pero, not her, and wouldn’t adjust from it‘s spawned proportions. That was one of the few times she’d actually been grateful for a mistake made by the devs. It was a relief to have an excuse never to wear it.

And now, here she was, staring at the frilly golden thing Yuri held, about to parade herself in front of the whole of Nazarick.

“It’s called Alice’s Adoration,” she said, biting her lip. “It’s supposed to change a bunch of stats that didn’t really benefit my build. Like, uh, it… it gives a maxed out charisma bonus.”

“At the expense of defense, as I understand it,” Demiurge agreed, nodding. “As well as special defense, holy effect resistances, and poison resistance. All turned to a negative sum.”

“It does give a regenerative boost, though,” she muttered. Darn it, he didn’t know how to appraise items, did he?! Did Yuri? She’d thought the dress was rare enough that he wouldn’t know about the downsides of it. After all, there had only been a few acquired across the entire game. Not many players had cared about charisma boosts, not enough to grind the entire quest for the rare drop anyway. But she’d always enjoyed charisma, which was partially why Pero had gifted the item to her.

And right now, she’d really been hoping for the massive boost in confidence she thought it might translate to. Even at the expense of wearing the horrible thing.

“If I may,” Demiurge crooned. His hand gestured out, head tilting slightly in deference. Wow, he was laying it on thick. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, half at the unnecessary smoothness of his tone, half at the frustration of having been caught in her attempt at a safety blanket. “While there is no garment that would not be bettered by your figure, I would remind that this is the Lady’s presentation to the tomb. While Alice’s Adoration does indeed grant exceptional charisma, there are others that are more recognizable as your own, and styles more customary to your rightful place as the Lady of Desires. I would be at fault in the trust you have given me if I did not suggest the best possible alternatives.”

Ugh. The way he spoke was so reminiscent of how he first treated her. This was ridiculous. This was… painful.

“What do you think I should wear, Demi—Demiurge?” she sighed, stumbling on the intimacy of his nickname.

“I’ve arranged for substitute options,” he said, and the gesturing hand widened as Yuri opened the door. “They are taken from your most commonly equipped garments, with a few similar additions among the same style. I hope you will find them to your liking.” A rack of dresses rolled into the room, guided by another of the Pleiades maids. The impression of a name flashed across Mira’s mind behind the shock she felt at the large array of fabrics, the detail overtaking her thoughts in favor of the mass of clothes. Her name was something like… see-saw? No, that was an association she’d made because of something in her written bio. She was cute? She liked things that were cute? She declared things cute? Geez, this was gonna drive her crazy. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue… she _knew_ she knew it… 

Mira stared at the pink-haired girl as the rack wheeled inside, searching for some sort of clue from the camo-patterned scarf or eye patch, but still, nothing. Yuri was speaking again. Mira dragged her mind back to pay attention.

“With the provided arrangement, whatever you choose we can accessorize to attain the requested status benefits,” she said with a nod to Demiurge. Mira didn’t miss how Yuri phrased her words to avoid naming him, while still giving respect to his part in the endeavor. She looked to him. He noticed, but took her hand and led her to the clothes rather than address it.

“What do you think, my Lady?” he said.

‘Think’ felt like a funny word to use. Her mind could hardly even believe what she was seeing.

There were all sorts of fabric. Some made of stardust, some floating with flames, some dancing with dust and dew, chiffon formed from harvested pixe-bristles, butterfly winds that faded into incandescent shadows, networks of gems that dripped in gold, literal dripping gold, flower petals of every size, lace that pressed away other outfits like the sturdiest of armor. She’d gathered these over the space of years and years, been impressed by the creativity that went into the impossible designs, worn them around Nazarick just for the joy of doing so. And now… 

It was all real.

Mira started to reach out a hand, then withdrew it.

“Yuri,” she said, and the maid straightened. “If… if you were me. If you were about to go out and face everyone. Would you pick… what would you want to wear?”

“I do have a recommendation for you, my Lady,” she responded. She turned to the other maid, adjusting her glasses from the side. “CZ, could you retrieve—”

_“CZ!!”_ Everyone in the room jumped their attention to Mira at her outburst, and she immediately went red in the face. “Oh—I just—I was trying to remember—I knew it was something, I thought it was, uh, it sounded like see-saw, because kids are always so cute when they play on—! I-I like it, it’s a good name,” she added, offering a smile to the blank-faced girl.

“Thank you very much, my Lady,” CZ responded. She kept staring without any hint of expression, perhaps even more intently than before. Mira blushed harder.

Yuri bowed, hands clasped in front of her. “I have made an oversight! Introductions should have been made by me as my sister entered—”

“Oh, no no, don’t, uh,” Mira started to reach out to her, unsure how to stop the apology. Everything was so formal, and she'd made the mistake of lapsing into casual. She’d messed up; she’d made Yuri feel bad _and_ admitted she’d forgotten CZ’s name in one fell swoop. A sinking filled her gut; she was not cut out for this. She couldn’t even handle a small group interaction, how was she going to stand in front of the whole tomb and act like she knew what she was doing, this was doomed to be a disaster—

Demiurge placed a reassuring hand on her back for only a moment, then spoke. “On the contrary, Miss Yuri. Our Lady’s delight at the discovery shows how the mystery pleased her. I would request that such formalities be maintained in the future for propriety, but in this instance I would say it was rather appropriate. Am I correct in my assumption, Lady Mira?”

“Yes. Yeah.” Relief flooded through Mira as the maids raised their heads again. “I should actually thank you, Yuri! And you, CZ. It’s good to, uh… have a bit of practice remembering, so I can remember everyone a bit more easily.”

“However we may be of assistance to you is an honor,” she responded, a small smile crossing her face. CZ doubled the sentiment. “In the cases of other introductions, they will not be neglected again. And I thank you as well, for correcting my perspective,” she turned to Demiurge.

Once again, she didn’t call him by name. This time, Demiurge glanced to see Mira’s expression.

“Would you mind allowing me a moment to converse with our Lady?” he said. “There are a few things I would like to gain her direction on before departing to the assembly.”

Mira turned a quizzical look to him. Wait… did he mean he wasn’t going to be escorting her?

“Of course,” Yuri said, curtsying alongside CZ. “We will be stationed just without the door. I would ask that you don’t take too long; the meeting is quite soon.”

When the door shut, Mira simultaneously locked her fingers into Demiurge’s hand and frowned at him. “What d’you mean, before you depart? You’re not staying with me?”

He placed his other hand at her neck, tracing the curve down to her shoulder. He sighed. “Mira… everything I’ve done, I do in the name of your best interests. Do you believe me?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” she muttered. “And I don’t like that. I wish it was in the best interests of _us_. I—I want _that._ Why can’t we have that? We just got us. We worked so hard for it.” Her eyes flitted across memories, so recent. So much pain they’d overcome, things they had realized, sacrifices they’d made to create a life together. Things they had yet to do. “And now we’re here,” she pressed on, frustration tinting her voice, “and we’re pretending to be formal with each other, and we’re back to using titles, and I’m picking out dresses to impress people who put me on a pedestal, and—and they won’t even call you by name?! I hate this. It’s only been _hours,_ and—‘Monga helped me feel a bit better, he said this can be home, but that doesn’t change—I dunno if I can really do this. And do it for—for who knows how long! I can’t just— I don’t want— Demi, I want this to be about _you_ for a minute. I want that; I’m worried about _you._ P-please, Demiurge, tell me what I can do for _you._ I don’t wanna lose us. I-I don’t— I…”

He was pulling her in close, and she let her face droop into his chest. A dry sob puffed at her back. She held it inside.

“ _I_ will be alright,” he promised. “I won't lose who I am. I swear to you; my loyalty to what we have runs much deeper than that. There is a part I will play, but here alone, I will always be this man to you. You have changed me wholly. You can rely on that forever.”

“Then let me rely on you,” she said into his shirt. She looked up at him, brow fixed with pleading. “Come into the meeting with me.”

He chuckled. “Ah, _that_ is difficult to resist. But you’ve doomed yourself. You’ve changed me enough that I’m even willing to tell you no!”

“I thought you said you couldn’t tell me no.”

“I believe we concluded that I cannot tell you no for long. And since I am rather sorrowfully going to remain stubborn on this, I think it’s time for a subject change.” Ears shifted at her predicted pout. “You requested something you could do for my benefit?”

“Oh—yeah! Really? Yeah, tell me, what—what can I do?”

The newly bloomed happiness on Mira’s face drained as Demiurge told her his plan. His tail whipped in agitation as she made a counter offer.

At last, after much pressing and conceding from both parties, an agreement was met. They laid a plan. Demiurge pressed a kiss to her hand.

“Thank you,” he said, and she returned with a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, too,” she responded. “I know… I know this isn’t going to be easy for you. I’m sorry, Demiurge.”

A breath huffed in bliss from him, and he hummed back to her. “The time together between us, Mira, will make the largest of adjustments seem like a speck of dust against it all.”

“Then we better have plenty of time just the two of us,” she whispered.

“We are in agreement in that.” He placed his lips to her forehead, holding them there as a hand moved from her shoulder to her back. His other hand was pressed between her breasts, she realized, held there while interlaced with her own. It was warm, comfortable against her. Comfortable to have him so close.

Her fingers rippled across the back of his hand, and he returned the small gesture. She wanted him to stay close. She wanted him to _stay_. They had come to an agreement, sure, but he was still going to join the other guardians at the meeting. Still going to leave her to enter the meeting alone while she was announced. But he was here now, at her side, tail slowly curling it’s way around her ankle. A false hope rose like the flicker of a match, and she decided to entertain the small light for a moment. As though letting his gravity pull her, she leaned forward, grazing her lips to his collarbone, whispering his name… 

She heard a discontented growl burden his chest. She knew he hated having to be the one to pull away. She tightened her grip on the hand at her chest anyway.

His head dropped, connecting his forehead to her own. “Mmm. Tempting the devil,” he chided. She snickered in admittance. And the false hope gently reached the end of its short life.

“I have one more item to give you, before I go,” he said as she sighed and looked up at him in defeat, releasing his hand as he released her ankle. Returning to the bed and retrieving the bag which had held the assortment of rings, he opened it again. “It was made specially, after I explained my goals to Nazarick’s treasurer.”

Mira snapped to attention. “Pan?!”

“Pandora’s Actor,” Demiurge clarified. “But just as, if not more, anomalous and excitable as our own ‘comrade’.” He grumbled it, but Mira could sense the warmth in his words, as well as a greater story than she would receive right now. “The doppelganger seems to remember quite fondly the visits you made to him.”

“R-really? It wasn’t more than like… a handful of times, probably.”

“A more than sufficient amount by a general comparison,” Demiurge assured, and again Mira heard the traces of a story. He cleared his throat, reaching into the bag that obviously held more space than it seemed to.

When his hand emerged, it was with a crown. But it was a crown unlike anything Mira had ever seen.

Thin wire formed the entirety of its base, which was nothing more than a halo of gold, curved so as to better adorn a head. From nearly the front, two circles rose, aided by additional wires which arched backward, more circles forming a shrinking shape as they traveled over the length of the crown. At the sides were more circles, turning and twisting around their own aiding wires to mirror each other, growing smaller as they gathered in their spiral to a point. The crown glowed in Demiurge’s hand, and as he held it in both for presentation, she realized what it was.

As though in a skeletal reflection, the four horns of Lady Zoba had been recrafted by the treasurer’s hands.

“The first offering was solid gold with multiple fist-sized inlays,” Demiurge explained. “A good portion of convincing was necessary to come to a more simplistic and wearable design.

Slowly Mira raised a hand to touch the piece, feeling the energy of the glow, cool to her fingers rather than warm. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “He really outdid himself.”

“The first fifteen attempts are where he outdid himself. This is the bare bones of the sixteenth creation. However, there _are_ several thousand two-carat diamonds with which to refill the horns, twelve seven-carat hellflame rubies to hang three to a horn, and twenty-one five-carat living sapphires to circle the base. If you so desire to return it to its first incarnation.”

Mira giggled. “That sounds about right. Thanks, for convincing him toward something simpler.”

“Corralling his brand of eccentricity has become a bit of a hobby.”

“Heh. Maybe we should go see him together! After… all this.”

Demiurge smiled, raising the crown forward and twisting it to face him. “As you wish, so we shall, my Lady Mira.”

With the crown set on her head, something changed. Her hair lifted as though charged with a static energy, but not in bits of individual frizz. It was like the gravity around it had been knocked down by a small percentage, and as she moved a lock over her shoulder, it sailed as though in slow motion.

He cupped her face in a hand, drinking in her eyes. “As you have stated: Beautiful. I would venture, even almost worthy of you,” he said. A thumb brushed her cheek, then he deliberately stepped away, straightening his tie. “It’s more than time for me to go. I’m sure Miss Yuri has decided my goal is to sabotage her preparation of you.”

“I’d be ok with that.”

“I will see you in the throne room,” he replied, smirk hinting at a corner of his lips. “The moment you enter, my eyes will be one set of many. But they will undoubtedly be the most devoted, and they will look with much more than what the others can understand. I may not be at your side, but I will be beside you, Mira.”

She nodded, said thank you. He walked past her towards the door. She called out to him one last time. Said the words. He returned them. Then, he was gone.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I promised action! Hopefully this chapter was fun anyway; next chapter is almost ready to post, and there's some big changes gonna happen in it! ( _*cough* if I don’t split it in half for dramatic effect *cough*_ ) Mira and her Demi have something up their sleeve, and there's also the current happenings of Nazarick to deal with that have been delayed more than half a day by this whole circus. And, apparently, the Demiurge of Nazarick has some trouble he's brewing on the side... there's a lot to be resolved, and more problems to be created, all on their way! Yaaaaay!
> 
> __
> 
> 🔥[RLotSF Tumblr](https://reallifeonthetheseventhfloor.tumblr.com/)🔥
> 
> __
> 
> ♡♡ Just a place to keep inspiration for my fic, Demiurge stuff, all that jazz. ♡♡
> 
> __


	5. Hope for the Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever stare at a piece of writing and stare and stare and stare and FINALLY decide you're just gonna submit it and not worry so much about all its flaws? And then proceed to hover over the submit button? For like two hours?
> 
> Haha yeah... me neither!... Never done that, not me!... Nnnnope....
> 
> Maybe Mira's stress is just blending with mine, right? Yeah, maybe that's it. Either way, I hope you guys have fun reading this one!!

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵'𝓼 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓋𝑒

ʇsǝq ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ ǝdoH

* * *

  
  


Mira’s hands shook, tugging on the sleeve that refused to stay draped over her shoulder. It had been staying just moments ago—maybe she shouldn’t have done this, maybe she should have just worn what Yuri and CZ had dressed her in—but there was no time left to change again…

This had been a mistake.

When the two maids had reentered the bedroom and gotten to work, Mira was tight-lipped and tense. Yuri had continued to avoid calling Demiurge by name, and CZ kept staring at her, neither of which did much to help her relax. Makeup had been applied quickly and rather expertly by Yuri, while CZ retrieved clothing for Mira to choose between. If Mira was honest, they’d been random choices. She hadn’t been able to focus much.

Regardless of that fact, the result (with the two maid’s influence) had been impressive. Standing in front of the full length mirror, she watched as a ribbon of flame faded down her legs, making them appear to almost vanish in the mirage of their heat. A top of gold that had been padded to better fit her shape hugged her breasts, and a scarf of feathers draped over her shoulders. Occasionally the scarf flexed, rising against gravity, as though the memory of flight still lived in its ivory barbs. Gold leaf speckled the corners of Mira’s eyes, dark blue coloring her lips. CZ was pinning the extra material of the items to a fit, while Yuri secured locks of hair into the shape of curled roses along the edge of the crown. Lastly, a necklace of ceramic-linked tanzanite beetles was clasped around her neck, basking her completely in a bluish glow that shifted not only the color of her skin, but her hair and clothes as well. And Yuri with a satisfied smile announced that they were finished, with not even ten minutes to spare.

Mira stared at her reflection. The resemblance to Zoba was easy to see, blue and horned and ethereal. As though someone had taken her image, gathered it in a bucket, and drenched the small human frame with it.

She touched the necklace scratching at her skin. Sensed the pins pulling in the seams. Tasted the blue caked on her lips.

She’d wanted to be Zoba again for so long. Dreamed, more than once, of seeing such familiar traits appear in her reflection. But now that she was here, it felt… wrong. Like a lie, dressed up to look palpable. It felt… like she was staring at a different person.

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered. “It’s all beautiful, really, but I can’t—” She tugged at the string of beetles, and one poked a leg out in confusion. She jumped, a little gasp sounding in surprise. “I need to— I love the ensemble,” she lied. “You’ve done an amazing job, I just don’t think— It’s a lot to handle, and I don’t have… I c-can’t pretend like this all is—”

“My Lady,” Yuri held her hands formally together, speaking confidently despite the question in her voice, “whatever it is we have done contrary to your vision, we will—”

“No, no that’s not—!! There’s nothing wrong with what you’ve done. You’ve worked hard—”

The beetle twitched it’s leg back into place and latched onto her collarbone. Mira felt her muscles stiffen as her mind begged her to reach up and get it off. The hand near her neck flexed, and Yuri took notice.

“Oh! My Lady, of course! I understand,” the maid said, and her eyebrows leapt as though she had just realized the obvious. “I have a perfect solution.”

It felt like air finally pushed its way into Mira’s lungs. Yuri understood? Oh thank heavens, she was afraid it would come across as rude, not wanting to wear all this. It felt clumsy and like so much to handle; the pins and the padded top and everything all felt like she was about to walk onto a sci-fi movie set rather than into a meeting. Like they had dressed her for a midnight premiere without realizing she was an actor, not the role she played. The knot in her chest that had been threatening to implode loosened itself just a bit, and she chuckled with the extra space.

“Ohh, good. Thank you, Yuri, I didn’t know how to—… Uh, what are… is that…?”

CZ had lifted a silver length of fabric from a box and handed it to Yuri, then turned to retrieve a second for herself.

“The Bonds of Tranquility,” Yuri responded in affirmation, taking hold of Mira’s arm and lifting it. “Borrowed from Lord Nishikienrai’s collection. These should do nicely.”

The space in Mira’s chest grew tense.

Before she could form an argument, before she could even manage a sentence, CZ had lifted the other arm, and the strips of fabric latched onto Mira’s wrists.

Twirling like bandages hungry to encircle a pharaoh, they sped down her forearms, past her elbows, almost to her shoulders, tighter and tighter as they went, pulling her arms straight with a life of their own. She tried to resist their pull as they moved, tried to flex her fingers as they overtook those too— Her hands snapped together, encased in strips of silver, palms touching while fingers pointed heavenward. She stared at them, feeling the pit inside her grow more desperate as she realized—in game, the Binds of Tranquility had a price. For the benefits they provided, they took something, too. The player’s own limbs gained a status of paralysis.

She couldn’t move her arms.

As that thought rattled around her brain, something pressed down on the fabric around her wrist. Mira instinctively tried to jerk away, but her wrist remained unmoving under the wraps—instead, the sensation of touch lurched back as though responding to the command, a shadowed shape distorting the air as whatever had touched her became more solid, more visible. With a swallowed gasp, she twisted her entire torso, but the semi translucent shape followed immediately. And then she noticed another. And another—

The four arms of the Bonds of Tranquility all now hovered around her body.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Gaped at the ghostly appendages.

Now they were recognizable. Whenever she’d seen the Bonds of Tranquility used by the ninja who owned them, the spectral arms had already been formed, as he’d equipped and removed them only when hidden so as to avoid the danger the paralysis created.

He had admitted they were hard to get used to at first. But she’d never expected them to feel so… alien. Detached.

They hung around her like puppets on springs.

“Inspiring,” Yuri praised, giving a sharp and assured nod of her head. “You are resplendent of your true form, my Lady. An excellent point, to note your full set of arms was incomplete.”

Mira felt the binds shiver as she tried again to move her hands, saw the floating appendages twitch over her in response. The beetle at her neck kicked it’s foot back out, and the soft floating of her hair disguised a flinch. The hands trembled, one turning to face a palm at her neck.

“Yes,” CZ chimed in. “More like normal now.”

_Normal?_

This was… _normal._

This was what they viewed her as. This was what CZ and Yuri expected, what they had strived to portray. A woman who could make use of a closet as strange and diversified as the one belonging to the Four-Horned Djinn, with all it’s unfathomable items and impossible clothes. A woman they recognized. A woman who looked like this.

No. Not just them.

The whole tomb.

The whole tomb expected her to be—

“I need a minute,” she said, the words pressing through the shrinking space in her chest. “I n-need a minute. I need—”

Yuri began to ask something, stepping forward. Mira jumped, she didn’t want more help, she just wanted to run— Then the room changed.

In a shift that twirled the knot in her gut like a fish in a whirlpool, the dark of Momonga’s bedroom sucked into Mira’s vision. A bright flash popped her ears, purple glows replaced by golden hues—A pile of clothes under her feet shifted from the sudden weight and she crashed, down to her side, ethereal arms flailing uselessly, shoulder slamming with a thwack to the floor. What had just—Where was—?!

Under the wraps of silver, a red light faded, guild ring settling back into passive mode.

Had she just… 

Yuri and CZ were nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in Momonga’s room anymore.

She’d been thinking about her closet, wishing desperately to not be where she was, wanting to run—

Interrupting her train of thought, the strand of beetles itched, confused, crawling to lay properly around her neck after the fall.

Glowing hands reacted. All four raced to her neck, fumbling around, scraping at skin, trying to all fit between her shoulders and her jaw to stop the insects’ movement—

“G-get—off—STOP.”

All four hands fled away from her neck. Then they ripped at the silver bonds.

The louder the sound of tearing grew, the more her hands could move. The floating limbs flickered and faded, twitching as each lost its life to its own actions. Mira ignored the lingering sensation around her throat and ripped her palms apart, helping the last immaterial arm as it clawed at the fabric curled around her biceps. With the Bonds of Tranquility gone, she snapped her hands next to the necklace, turning it around and around until she felt the metal clasp. Wrenching it open, she flung the strand across the room, not caring where the beetles ran off to.

The rest of the clothes quickly followed. She couldn’t wear the flames. She couldn’t wear the wings. She almost tried to take the crown off as well, but it was too securely woven into her hair, and instead she balanced her fingertips along the parts of her face untouched by makeup and tried to take deep breaths.

Just concentrate on the breaths, she told herself. Don’t let your thoughts swirl. Don’t let them pull you down.

Feel the air come in. Slowly breathe it out.

In. Out.

Her heartbeat stopped shaking her shoulders. She was ok, she was safe. She’d never actually been in any danger. It was all just nerves and stress. And maybe she’d overreacted, just a little. Maybe more than a little.

Everything was fine. This was just…

This was Nazarick. This was how they had created the guild to be.

Mira took another breath. She was fine.

She glanced at the frayed bits of silver cloth around her and winced. The poor Bonds… Nishikienrai really had loved using them when they raided other player’s campsites. The Bonds were silent, telepathic thieves that he could use from across a field, a perfect item to accompany his stealth. And a part of her had always thought they'd be fun to try.

Apparently not.

“Sorry, Nishi,” she muttered, gathering as many of the pieces as she could see and putting them in a pile. She’d Mend them back together later, maybe with Demi at her side to help make sure they didn’t just reattach as soon as they were functional again… but not right now. She scooted the little pile a bit further away.

… Ha. She’d teleported. She really had, all on her own. Activated the ring, used it with no more than a whim. How about that.

It hadn’t been nearly as complicated as she’d expected. She had practiced so much with using her own magic, it had been pretty simple to tap into the ring. Like second nature, even.

That was probably good. At this rate, she’d need it to teleport to the meeting.

Ugh… the meeting.

She lowered herself to the ground, pulled her knees close.

Everyone would be waiting to see her. Expecting just what Yuri and CZ had set her up to be: A reminder of the Four-Horned Djinn. A _copy_ of that woman. A soft reassurance that everything was exactly as it should be, and that everything was under control.

An illustrious cosplay of who she knew she would never be again, that fake that had stood in the mirror. A lie.

Should she just… lie?

‘Monga was playing a part. She could tell how hard he worked to put on a proper face. Demi was playing the part of devoted bodyguard to “his Lady” and leaving out the greater truth.

And now she was expected to do the same.

And maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad. They were doing it, after all. It was doable. The idea made her feel like her arms were paralyzed all over again, but it was still doable.

...But maybe she didn’t have to do it. Maybe she had another choice, one that would be honest while still following through on whatever duties being a “Supreme One” held.

A surge of determination lifted her by the shoulders, and she spotted a familiar dress from the pile beside her, one with a deep enough neckline as to fit over the horns. Finagling it around the crown, she turned the possibility over her mind. It could work. It could, she could make it work, and she wouldn’t even have to change the plan she and Demiurge had set out. A low hanging necklace was snatched to accentuate the dress more on a whim than anything else, her heart feeling a bit more hopeful. She knew there had to be only minutes before the meeting would start. She was going to make this work.

But now that she was here, staring at the doors of the throne room… she felt like she’d forgotten to bring that newly sprung determination along with her.

The doors had never seemed so huge.

Carved into the hinged blocks of stone and metal, a leathery winged demon curled a claw in offering to the figure opposite, an angel with wings so voluminous they nearly engulfed the entirety of the woman. She shielded her head with a hand transformed into a miniature wing itself.

Whose idea had it been to have this as the precursor to entering the throne room of a bunch of villainous role players?!

Probably Tabula. He did always love his “profound” dichotomies, even if they were more cliche than he’d care to realize.

No, that was rude. She didn’t mean that. She was just… just… 

Uuuuugh, this was a _terrible_ idea.

This was going to end in disaster, because how could anyone be fooled into thinking she was worthy of an ounce of the treatment she’d received so far? How could anyone place her even close to the general vicinity of the Overlord Lich they seemed to practically worship, Lord Ainz, the ruler of Nazarick? He might be playing a part, but he did it well. And he sure _looked_ the part. And he had all his abilities still at his disposal, right? She was just a tiny human who barely registered on the scale of what lurked in the tomb, hardly worth a second glance for even a support position anymore, not to mention—as an authority figure? What was she thinking??

They wouldn’t take her seriously. This was a mistake.

Her vision shrunk to the view directly in front of her. She felt her lungs creak in expansion against every breath. Her hand fumbled down her arm as she lost track of the sleeve, trembling too much to keep it in her fingers, too deep in thought to care about retrieving it. This was crazy, there was no way they would take her seriously. She was going to ruin ‘Monga’s reputation and get herself killed, and Demiurge would probably get killed in the process of trying to prevent _her_ from getting killed and—

A hand touched her shoulder. A gloved hand.

A blossom of relief was her immediate reaction to the touch. He had changed his mind! She could lean on him, maybe he had even decided they should be more open around others; maybe things were better than he’d anticipated!

Then, she remembered…

_Her_ Demiurge didn’t have his gloves.

The hand was guiding her sleeve back up into its place. “Allow me, my Lady,” a crooning voice said.

She turned to watch him slip into view, arm politely tucking behind his back while the other crossed to aid in a bow. She heard her heartbeat more clearly than his next words.

“I was just on my way when I sensed you nearby… Forgive my impetuous question, but— are you well?”

Was she—? The thoughts in her mind snapped to attention. Something hot lit in her chest. The panicking dark at the edges of her eyes retreated as her vision grew crisp.

Was she ‘well’?

This was the monster who had attacked the man she loved, who had threatened him with death. The demon who had almost taken him away from her forever. Who had brought him low, and made her feel a fear she’d never experienced before. And now, he was asking if she was ‘well’.

“I’ve been better,” she said, words cold. His tail held starkly still.

“I… have been craving an audience with you to properly express my remorse. My only thought to my actions was in defense of Nazarick, but I greatly failed to see the truth behind the circumstance presented before me. I should have concluded that such a struggle would not have been for anything less than something such as protecting our Lady of Desires herself. And to have displeased you in my actions is…”

Mira stayed silent. Demiurge inclined his head once again.

He waited. She turned away.

The heat billowed in her throat.

“...You might wanna get inside. ‘Mo— Lord Ainz should be starting soon,” she said. The same sleeve slipped down, and she huffed as she tried to put it back in place.

She didn’t look, but she knew he hadn’t moved. She felt him grasping for a reason to remain.

“Spirit’s Affectionate Eye paired with the Opulent Gown of Endearing Tides. A striking message in apparel for your official presentation before Nazarick. The choice of charisma and wisdom items tells of your strengths and reinforces the—”

“It wasn’t some smart plan.” She cut him off. In the back of her mind a worried voice told her she should keep her silence, that she should allow him to spin a story, but she pushed it back with the energy of the emotions that were swirling in her from his presence. “I just chose something that might fit. Most of my clothes don’t. That’s all.”

“Ah.” She peeked over to see him observing the dress once more. She’d grabbed a shimmering, billowing fabric of pastel blue with darker tones embroidering each hem. Dots of gold grew and faded randomly across its surface, as though stars rose from its hue to peer out before diving back under the delicate surface. She had shoved her arms through all four sleeves, the two meant for upper limbs simple straps while the lower were made to drape from wrists. Those two presently hung much more than their cut intended, golden glimmers almost blessing the ground alongside the bottom hem.

The dress had fit her well, before. When she was Zoba. Now, it felt like she was drowning in misplaced fabric. She probably looked like it, too, she realized with an angry blush. Why had she gone the “bikini top” aesthetic with so many of her custom outfits?! It had felt like it fit her character at the time, with the provided buffs and lightweight benefits, but she could _not_ fill out clothes like that anymore. And it wasn't just the issue of arms; CZ had needed to pad the golden top before fitting it to her, after all.

The other shoulder was slipping, and she shot a hand up to hold it in place.

She could see the gears turning in his head. It was so very Demiurge to watch him assemble a plan on the spot to get his way. She almost smiled.

“I could personally assure that your closet is retailored to—”

“No, no I don’t—” The scene of Yuri and CZ curtsying flashed, and she felt a sudden increase of guilt. She’d just left them to marinate in the haze of thinking they somehow disappointed her, and was sure it would fall to them and those like them to do as he was suggesting. Besides, her new plan might have felt like it’d been drawn out in crayon compared to the effort they’d already given, but she wanted to stick with it. She didn’t want to retreat just yet. “Th-the charisma and… the buffs from this set are nice. I get what you’re suggesting, but I don’t have time for—to—”

The sudden panic was poorly hidden on her face. And then she saw his ears twitch up.

Did he… 

He remembered this dress, didn’t he? 

She’d worn it only a few times, when she’d come by the Burning Temple to practice giving speeches for class, or to plan what she was going to say in a tough conversation, or when she would be meeting new people. She wore this among a rotation of charisma boosting outfits to simulate a little extra courage, to convince herself she could handle what she was facing as she practiced with him as a sounding board.

No.

No, not him. _Her_ Demiurge.

She had practiced with _her_ Demiurge.

Something wriggled in her chest as she looked away.

Her Demiurge was inside. He was waiting.

“Of course. I understand completely,” he said emphatically. She nearly rolled her eyes in annoyance, but at the same time, an itch bubbled up, a need to scrape at her arm and feel it was bare. Yuri had said she understood, too.

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t get it, and Mira didn’t expect him to. Besides, he’d learn soon enough that he was wro— “There is no need to explain yourself; I should have seen it from the first glance. Your wish is to present who you truly are?”

Oh.

He… he _did_ understand.

She turned to him, eyebrows raised and lips parting in surprise. “How… what makes you think that?”

“ ‘I don’t want to just pretend I can do this. I should be confident in what I have to offer! Who I am is exactly who I should be!’ ” Demiurge placed a hand over his chest as he recited. “These are the words you spoke to me on the first occasion of your donning the Opulent Gown of Endearing Tides. You confided that while others had changed their habits to fit the title you aimed for, you strove to avoid that temptation, instead showing your unique advantages. If I recall, your strategy proved fruitful.” His tail flicked happily behind him. “As it will today, I am sure.”

It felt like her heart had frozen in shock. Her jaw refused to move.

The memory came back, hazy. She’d been going to a job interview. Her first big one, a job as an assistant in an office. It had been kind of funny; for all her nerves, she’d ended up turning the job down because it wasn’t flexible enough for her class schedule. Had she really said all that, pacing across the floor of the temple years ago?

His attention went to her shoulder, and she realized the sleeve was slipping yet again. She wrenched her eyes down to see it as well, but didn’t move to fix it. Couldn’t quite move to fix it. Her arms felt as stiff as her jaw.

“...In the absence of another attendant,” Demiurge said, his tone almost hesitant in its caution, “and in the interest of shortening time, as you have stated… May I?”

He gestured to the sleeve. She looked back to it, then to him.

She wondered if he was holding his breath just as much as she was.

“…Ok,” she whispered. “Sure. Thank you.”

With a quiet speed, almost as though she might change her mind if he either stalled or spooked her, the devil set to work.

The small cuffs that held the lower sleeves to her arms were removed, and he guided her to move her arms out of the openings in the torso as well. With only the straps of the top sleeves remaining, the dress sagged yet closer to the floor. It pooled over her bare feet, and she felt her worry rise. She whipped her head to the side to try and see in his expression if he really was confident in the move, only to watch him swing his head several inches back in reaction. Oh— Oh, the horns! She had almost knocked his glasses clean off his face!!

“Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry—are you—”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” he promised, gathering both bottom sleeves and circling behind her without skipping a beat. He crossed them over her front, face coming in close to her neck as he continued, “There was no hazard to me, my Lady. And if there had been, I would gladly endure it.”

Something wriggled in her chest again as his words touched her skin. Something that scared her. Something she didn’t want to feel. A tense in her neck begged to swing her head again, making the horned crown a real hazard, just to prove the small wriggle mistaken. To not have him quite so close to her.

She didn’t.

The fabric around her midriff tightened, and she glanced just her eyes down to see the hem lifting slightly off the ground. This was… sort of becoming wearable, actually. He was doing a pretty good job.

There was a final cinch in the back, and she felt the telltale tug of a knot being secured in place. “Forgive the amateur attempt as well as the hint of pride, my Lady, but… I do believe my work will serve you quite well.” He stepped to her front, and she felt around to assess the tailoring.

The sleeves had been tied in a bow at her lower back, a slight tuck beneath their length the only sign that a turn of fabric had been hidden to raise the height of the skirt. Where they crossed her midriff hid the embroidery that would have betrayed the extra fabric in the bust, also holding the lowered neckline in place. He’d done better than “a pretty good job”, this was actually fairly genius. And he’d done it in seconds.

“Thank you,” she muttered, not looking at him as she said it.

His tail swung as he bowed to her. “Your gratitude is more than a devoted servant deserves. As the time has arrived, I should take my place. Unless, there is anything else you require?...”

He held a hand out, as though in a symbolic offering. It seemed to ask for more than symbolism.

She thought of walking in alone again. Thought of having an arm to hold, to steady herself against as she entered.

Then, she thought of being seen on his arm. Of allowing herself to lean on _that_ arm.

This devil—… this _monster’s_ arm.

“I’m fine. Like you said, it’s time. You should go.”

It could have been just her imagination, but she almost thought his shoulders lowered slightly as he bowed again and thanked her in farewell.

Like she cared. He was the monster who attacked the man she loved. She couldn’t forgive a stranger for something like that. And that’s all he was, a stranger.

He didn’t know her, had no idea who she truly was. Understanding her intent, remembering a simple line from the past didn’t change that. And she didn’t know him. Not here, not anymore. She didn’t _want_ to know him.

He was just some stranger. And he would stay that way.

The heavy doors shut behind him. The echo prodded at the persistent wriggle in her chest, not allowing it to rest.

She waited in silence for her cue.

  
  


* * *

Ainz was standing before possibly the grandest assembly he had ever called. Creatures from across the tomb had been summoned to leave their posts and gather to welcome Mira; he couldn’t remember who precisely she’d aided in the creation of, but just to cover the bases, he had invited everyone who could be spared. Golems, vampire brides, bat-demons, even the blossoming plant monster from a sixth-floor trap was present. Ainz wasn’t sure if it was actually sentient or not, but he was pretty sure the bright purple teeth lining the petal edges had been a cosmetic perk she’d offered to fit the color scheme of its surroundings. Or had it been Herohero that had spared the item for Buku to use?... 

Either way, better to have a few unfamiliar faces than to miss one she would be searching for amidst the crowd. He’d told her this was home. He was going to prove it was.

Up at the front of the assembly, the guardians knelt before the throne, and he took his seat and bade them all to rise. In unison they acknowledged and did his bidding.

It was a bit strange to see the blue suit at the end, an extra face among them all, almost like a visual deja vu as he scanned down the line and saw the same face twice. Two Demiurges. Two intelligent beings, one of which expected him to be all knowing and all powerful. The other which understood the reality of their situation.

Ainz tried not to squirm in his seat. Don’t think about it right now, he told himself, it’s show time! He needed to warm up the crowd! This had to be flawless.

“You have all no doubt heard of the miracle which has fallen upon Nazarick,” he began, thundering his voice as loudly as he could to be heard by all, “and sensed the great presence which has been returned to us.”

There was a shifting in the crowd, a ripple of motion in attention to the throne room doors. Yes, they had all sensed it.

“I have gathered you here in response to that miracle. One of my comrades has found her way back to the tomb. It is true.” Another ripple of motion, a sharp murmur of excitement. “She has returned with the appearance of a different form, and brought with her the guardian that was at her side during her absence.” The murmuring drifted back into silence, creatures straining their attention to catch every word. “This is a momentous occasion, my servants! One to be remembered in our hearts! Behold the appearance of she who has parted the fabric of reality to be among us. The resurgence of one who was the Four-Horned Djinn, Zoba herself. Give reverence… to the Lady Mira.”

At this, he stood from the throne and lifted an open palm to the doors, tilting his head slightly to have his eyes glint in that way he’d discovered they could. The two undead knights stationed by the heavy doors pulled them apart, and—

There she stood.

She looked so small, he realized as she hesitated into the room. And yet to him, she was the biggest thing there.

Ghouls and beasts fell to their knees as she stepped forward, most unable to lower their necks as they stared. Rightfully so, he thought. She might not have had the ethereal appearance of her old avatar, but there was something nonetheless regal about her. The way she held herself, the glances she made over the crowd, smiles and polite nods offered wherever her eyes connected. Her appearance was lovely as well; the dress she wore was sleek and elegant and seemed familiar, but the simple crown over her head with the horns must have just recently been made. It seemed it was enchanted to have locks of her hair mimic the movement of her avatar’s, floating slightly behind her as she walked. Quite ingenious, really. The piece could have used a bit more ornamentation in his opinion, but it was still commendably crafted.

At last she made it to him, and he threw his arms open. “Nazarick: Do you see your new Supreme One?”

As one, the screeches and bellows and cries of the tomb responded. _“Yes, Lord!”_

Mira whipped around at their voices, their solemn energy rushing over her.

“Guardians, do you devote yourselves to Lady Mira, to her protection and her will, as you have sworn yourselves to me?”

The guardians responded in the same manner. _“Yes, Lord!”_

This was all he could have imagined it to be. She seemed stunned at the room, and the response of everyone was as enthusiastic as he could have hoped. Surely this would reassure her; she was in a place that she could recognize, with beings she could recall, who would devote themselves wholly to caring for her. She was safe. She was home.

“ ‘M—Ainz?” She had turned back to him. Had he been staring? Ah—Probably.

“Yes, Mira?” he said back in the same subdued tone.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. Opened it again.

“D-do you mind if I… say a few words?”

Ah. Well—she was skipping a few steps in the script he’d prepared in his mind. He still had a few things he’d hoped would make an impression before asking if she’d like to make any sort of speech, but…

“Certainly. Yes, say what you will.”

Her eyes shut tightly and she drew in a quick deep breath, releasing it through her mouth. Then with a swift nod, she opened them and faced the tomb.

“Th-thank you all so much,” she said. “It’s… incredible to be here in Nazarick. To see you all like this. It’s everything I wished for, for years.” She was silent for just a moment, and from where he stood, Ainz saw something light on the faces in front of him that he hadn’t quite seen before.

“Ohh… I really have missed you.” This was added quietly. Tinged with the stunned expression he’d seen on her face. A slight quiver in her voice as she said it. Oh no, she wasn’t crying, was she?! He hadn’t meant for that, just to make her feel welcomed!

But before he could do more than begin to raise a skeletal hand, she continued, voice steady and volume raised again. “But I’m not the same as you remember me. I’m not the Four-Horned Djinn any more. I’m not even heteromorphic. I-I’m human. And that’s a big change for everyone involved. And I understand; some of you are probably more than a little uncomfortable with that. I wouldn’t blame you for having some hesitations. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you even for being upset!”

The room shifted as she said this. Heads turned side to side, feet rebalanced their weight, shocked sounds were restrained.

Ainz felt like his world item had rolled over in his bones. What was she saying? She’d voiced her worries about her Demiurge fitting in, certainly, but nothing about this. She hadn’t told him she felt these sorts of worries for herself.

“My Lady—” Almost on cue of thinking his name, the Demiurge in red seemed unable to contain his protest. “—No one would begrudge a Supreme Being the choice of their form! It is your right to walk among us as you please! None would ever—”

Ainz turned glowing eyes to him. He should reprimand the guardian for interrupting, he knew, but he hesitated. The rebuttal in the archdevil’s voice felt so similar to the one on the lich’s mind.

“Stop.” Mira raised a hand, turning her head purposefully from the devil. Ah—there was a sudden flare in her voice. That was something Ainz didn’t expect from the soft-spoken woman he knew. “This has nothing to do with what you think I should deserve. That’s not the point.”

The devil’s ears shot up at that, and then drooped back down. “Forgive my outburst, my Lady. I should have seen you meant more by your words.”

If Ainz had eyebrows, they’d be raised. Perhaps this was a glimpse into how she had come to an understanding with her own iteration of the devil. Speaking of…

Ainz glanced over at the man on the end of the line. His posture was stiff, tail flicking roughly at the end. But as Ainz’s eyes turned to him, he could have sworn the expression on his face shifted to a simple smile.

Mira was taking a moment before speaking again, and looked down the line as well. The blue suit gave her an almost imperceptible nod, perhaps in either agreement or reassurance. Was that because of the bond they had formed over their time together? Or perhaps, this was part of something they had set a course for before entering the throne room. Either way, Ainz saw Mira recenter her shoulders as she gained strength from the small gesture.

She turned back to the crowd, and every creature strained forward as though aching to hear just what the overlooked point could possibly be.

“I don’t want to cast any sort of doubt on loyalties, not at all. Everyone has shown me so much respect. And I’m incredibly grateful for it! What I mean, is that there will be plenty to adjust to all around, for all of us. And I don’t want to make that change any harder on you than it has to be.” Another pause. Another breath through her mouth. “So! To help in that transition, I have decided I’m going to retain my old name, the one you all know. I may not be four-horned, or a djinn anymore. But I still _love_ this place, and I still care so incredibly much about all of you. I still want to give my best to the tomb. That being, the one you knew before, is still everything I am.

“I am still Zoba, your Lady of Desires. And my point, is that—no matter what form I take, or what tomorrow brings—the person I truly am… is something I will never change.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mira's changing her name!? Why the heck is she doing that?? Next chapter there'll a bit more explanation, but there's plenty else that'll happen right alongside it. This is gonna be one eventful meeting... And maybe we'll finally find out where we are in canon, too!
> 
> (spoiler alert: yup, we will!)
> 
> 🔥[RLotSF Tumblr](https://reallifeonthetheseventhfloor.tumblr.com/)🔥
> 
> ♡♡ Just a place to keep inspiration for my fic, Demiurge stuff, all that jazz. ♡♡


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